Slaves of Darkness
by LoveMagicandMints
Summary: After young Murtagh escaped from Galbatorix years ago, Reyna had been left alone and at the mercy of the king. She became a young woman enveloped in the dark dealings of Urû'baen and paramour to the most evil man in Alagaësia. And now Murtagh is back.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Don't hate me for putting off _Conflicted_ for a month or so—I've been caught up in this. It's the Murtagh/OC one I mentioned and I've got a few chapters of it going. I'm not sure where I'll go with it quite yet (so don't be surprised if it goes on hiatus after a few more chapters) but I just wanted to get the beginning out and see what you guys thought of it. Tell me what you think, because if it goes over well I'll put effort to finishing it. It may go slower than _Conflicted_, though, because I want to focus on bringing that one to a close first. Review, please, and thanks!

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**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 1**

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I followed the sweeping black cloak down the hall, elongating my strides to match the king's. He had not explained why he had been so fidgety for the past few days, and I hadn't asked. I knew only what he saw fit to tell me and what I could glean from his other servants, which wasn't much at all—usually I was the best-informed of them all now that I had a place at the king's side.

He was excited, I could tell. His eyes had flashed and he had sprung up off his chair and went all but charging out into the hall, me scrambling to follow. It was a nice change from the almost-unbearable mood he had been in ever since Durza had been defeated. He was actually looking forward to something again.

We were heading toward the secret side entrance to the palace. It must be some new, important arrival—one of his spies perhaps. We stopped before the doors, my steps coming to a stop beside his tall figure, and waited, hearing sounds behind them. Whoever it was was preparing themselves for appearance before the King, shedding traveling gear, etc.

The doors opened and I stared. In came the two identical round, bald men, looking ragged and harried, carrying between them an unconscious young man with mussed dark locks and handsome, chiseled features, wearing a rough cloak over a bare chest and leather pants. I gazed, my eyes widening, as I recognized the face…the set of the jaw, the dark, expressive eyebrows…

Murtagh.

I stepped aside wordlessly to let them pass.

"The prepared room," Galbatorix commanded. "Do not wake him." The twins nodded in unison and passed him, supporting the unconscious Murtagh down the hallway and around a corner out of sight.

The king's eyes traveled to my face, and I wiped my features clear of expression. Inside, however, I was reeling. Murtagh! The young son of Morzan I though I would never see again. The boy I had grown up with in the palace and who had fled the king's clutches when he was eighteen, a year older than myself at the time. How he had changed! He had grown more broad, yet still as lean as always. His countenance was darker—almost haunted-looking even in sleep.

Feelings stirred in my heart, almost taking my breath away as it had been years since I had allowed myself to feel strong emotions. I had cared about him all those years ago, hadn't I? And I had been devastated when he had slipped away the night he was ordered by Galbatorix to decimate the village of Cantos—known to harbor rebels—with a battalion of soldiers. He had narrowly escaped; his friend and teacher Tornac had been killed trying to leave with him. What had his life been like? How had he been found? Questions burned in my mind, but I kept my face from betraying my intense interest.

My eyes flickered up to Galbatorix's and I found his dark eyes calculating my face, darting back and forth between my eyes as if trying to read them.

"You recognize him, I am sure," he said coolly.

"Yes," I replied. "Murtagh, Morzon's son, is it not?"

"It is." He began walking, slow this time, and I walked beside him. "You two were friends as children as I recall."

"We were."

He looked at me again, then said no more until we were back in his room and the door was shut. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at me levelly. I knew his subtle body language—he was about to tell me something he didn't want to divulge in the halls in case stray ears were listening. I sat slowly on the end of his enormous bed, watching his face.

"Apparently, when Murtagh heard news of a new Dragon Rider, he followed the trail of the Ra'zac in hopes of meeting up with him. I'm not sure how he knew about their involvement or why he wanted to meet the new Rider. However, he met up with them at Dras-Leona and rescued them from an ambush, though Brom was wounded and died shortly after."

Galbatorix began walking slowly back and forth in front of me, continuing, "He helped Rider Eragon and his dragon rescue the Elvin Princess Arya from Durza's imprisonment" —his mouth formed a displeased line— "and in then in the aftermath of the battle in Varden headquarters, the Twins targeted Murtagh. In the confusion of stray Urgal attacks and Ajihad's death, they took control of a band of Urgals, captured Murtagh, and brought him out and away from the Varden, scattering his bloody clothes and magically shielding all of them from scrying, so that the Varden would think both Twins and Murtagh were dead."

The king stopped walking, turned toward me, and smiled—a smile that would've chilled my blood had I not been so used to it. "I have wanted him back for a while now. And I have hopes. If a dragon has hatched for one son of Morzan, the one so much less deserving of it, why wouldn't another hatch for his eldest?"

I blinked, startled. "Eragon is Morzan's second son?"

Galbatorix smiled. "Indeed. The Twins found that interesting connection while probing the boy's mind. Selena must have been pregnant when she left, and she put her second son in the care of her brother."

"Murtagh and Eragon are brothers," I breathed. "Do they know?"

"No. Eragon has no way of finding out, and I shall divulge to Murtagh when I please. You are not to speak of this to anyone but me, Reyna."

I nodded, murmuring the oath in the Ancient Language that bound me to secrecy. It was so routine these days I could say the words in my sleep.

The king smiled briefly and sat beside me. His eyes were lighter than they had been in many weeks. I looked fearlessly into them; the icy depth of desperate, violent desires was familiar. His rough, cold hand lifted to the side of my head and stroked down my hair, resting on the side of my face so his thumb could brush my cheek.

"I've been contemplating how to put you to use in respect to my new asset," he said. "If he doesn't remember you, it won't matter, but if he does… I wonder if it's best to isolate him or let you get close to him and in so doing help him to trust me. You make a skillful spy as you've shown in the past, but if I control him completely as I plan to, that would be unnecessary. Still, whatever guard he would still have around me would be down with you if he were to trust and befriend you…" He continued to mull the issue softly aloud, then abruptly changed subjects. "I need a dragon, Reyna."

"I know," I replied softly. He looked at me, let out a breath, and looked away.

"A dragon will hatch for him, my Lord," I said. "Any son of Morzan is destined to be a Rider."

"We will see," he answered, then turned toward the door and walked out, leaving it open. I blinked, not expecting him to invite me to follow, and jumped up as his deep voice said from the hall, "Come, Reyna."

I quickly crossed to the door and shut it behind me, striding hastily to catch up to the king. He glanced sideways at me with a hint of amusement in his eyes. I smiled apologetically and a corner of his mouth cracked in a grin.

"You do like making me jump around," I said, looking ahead. He laughed briefly in his harsh way.

"Yes. You're quite quick at it. I suppose I've trained you well. Either that or my displeasure terrifies you."

"The latter, I imagine," I replied, and he chuckled. We walked down the hallways and came to a stop before a door. Galbatorix placed his hand on the lock said some words in the Ancient Language quickly under his breath. There was a loud click and he pushed the door open to reveal another hall with a dead end. When I was inside, he closed the door and said more words to lock it again. He then walked down the hall, turning to a door and opening it without any magic.

Inside the Twins were standing beside a bed on which Murtagh lay, still unconscious. They straightened when we walked in, and bowed low before the king.

"Here he is, sire," one said, his voice oily with a strange mix of pride and respect.

Galbatorix nodded, walking up to Murtagh's bedside. I remained where I was, and when the king's back was turned, the Twins gave me a cruel, calculating look. I suddenly felt a horrid tearing in my mind as if someone were forcing their way through.

I gasped and clutched at my temples, when suddenly the force receded, and I heard the king's ringing voice: "She is not under your command! _Never_ search those at my side! Send some servants to us! OUT!"

I opened my eyes and the Twins were gone. Galbatorix was glaring at me. I swallowed and shrunk from his anger, then his face calmed, realizing the expression he had. I didn't lower my hands from my temples as I had a painful headache, and I was shaking.

"Straighten yourself, Reyna," he growled. "It's done with. Do not show me weakness."

"I apologize, Your Majesty," I said, making my voice calm, and straightening, forcing my muscles to stop quaking. He turned away to look back down at Murtagh. My eyes followed his gaze as the pain in my head began to fade.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Galbatorix commanded, and three servants came inside. He turned to them. "I want this man bathed, clothed, and returned here. Reyna, you will oversee this. When it's done, you and the servants will knock on the hall door and a man will let you out and seal it again. Then find me."

He then swept out of the room. He servants looked at me. One of them I recognized, and inclined my head.

"Hello, Daniel."

Daniel nodded and the three grouped around Murtagh's bed.

"Do we wake him?" Daniel asked, looking at me.

"He won't wake," I replied. "Just pick him up."

A man pushed Murtagh up into a slouched sitting position and took hold of him under the arms, and another took his legs, and Daniel opened the door for them as they carried him out, me following. There was only one other door along the hall, and Daniel opened it and lit the candles on the walls to light the room. It was a spacious bathroom, and Murtagh was carried inside and set down beside the bath.

One servant began running water, while Daniel and the other stripped Murtagh of clothes. I averted my eyes accordingly, but of course I still saw him. I had seen many men naked before as I had been a concubine in the palace when I had come of age, and had also seen all of this particular young man a few times years back. But I had…cared about Murtagh. We had been friends and confidents as children and lovers as teenagers. Murtagh had been first and last in my heart, and that made me look at him on another level then any other. Heat bloomed low in my stomach and I fought hard not to stare.

He was, well, _bigger_ than the last time I had seen him. He had matured physically from the gangly teenager I had known. He was exceptionally muscular, and had more of a tan than at eighteen, but less than I would've expected of someone out in the world, though I supposed it was only natural he had inherited his father's pallid skin.

I was dismayed to see all the cuts and bruises on his body—old marks from the battle and a new crusted slit across his shoulder that possibly the Twins had inflicted. He looked terribly in need of care and a soft bed.

They picked him up and lowered him into the bath. Two men soaped up cloths and rubbed him down, gently cleaning his cuts and sores, while Daniel held his head above the water.

"Reyna," he said, "could you hold his head while I wash his hair?"

I nodded, glad to be of use instead of just watching. The other two men glanced at Daniel and I in surprise.

"Careful not to get your dress wet, though. It looks nice," he said. "I mean expensive, not nice on you. I mean, it looks nice on you, but—"

I laughed, kneeling. "I understand, Daniel." I gently took Murtagh's head in my hands as Daniel, who was now blushing, moved his hands away. He lathered them with soap and ran them through Murtagh's wet, shaggy hair.

I rubbed my thumb against Murtagh's warm, slightly-bristly cheek. He needed a shave as well. I moved my thumb down to the base of his neck where it met a familiar scar. I rubbed the rough, scared skin gently, remembering.

When Daniel was done washing, he took a wet towel and rinsed Murtagh's hair, and then one of the men washed his face. They carefully lifted his dripping body out, and I felt the hook in my lower abdomen again and forced a swallow down. They dried him with towels and then put on him the clothes that were lying on the chair by the bath. He looked enormously better.

They carried him back out and into the room, laying him on the bed. I nodded, turning, and they followed me out and down the hall to the magically-sealed door. I knocked, and there was a muttering of words on the other side, and the door opened. Riethan, one of Galbatorix's trusted magical men or servants or whatever they were to him stood there and nodded to me in recognition.

The three men left, I walked down the hall. My first idea was to try Galbatorix's bedroom, but he had said 'find me' which implied something else, I thought. I had an instinct about it, and turned down a hallway in the opposite direction.

It was a long walk, down many staircases, into the underground depths of the palace. Finally I got to the door I sought, and the men standing guard before it murmured magical words and opened it for me, which immediately let me know I had the right place.

I entered the wide, cavernous chamber where I saw Galbatorix with his hands clasped behind his back standing in front of two black stands. The stands were intricately inlayed with gold and had sets in their tops to hold the two remaining dragon eggs, one a deep ruby red, and the other a bold emerald green. Shruikan, the king's immensely powerful and frighteningly large black dragon, lay on his haunches on the stone a few yards behind him. His piercing yellow-orange eyes locked on me as I stepped inside and the door shut behind me. I bowed respectfully to him and walked softly up to the king, feeling the dragon's large eyes following. I came to stand beside Galbatorix, gazing myself at the eggs.

They looked magnificent. Mysterious and magical. Power seemed to emanate from them and it gave me goosebumps. Yet I didn't see them as Galbatorix did. He understood all they meant; he knew more about dragons and Riders than I ever would. He knew what it was like to be connected with such a creature. It had made him into the awesome power he was, and it had also destroyed him.

We stood quietly for a while. I of all people knew how important it was sometimes to let the king be alone with his thoughts.

My eyes were drawn to the red dragon egg. The red looked more powerful to me—more threatening. It was the color of anger, of hate, of love.

I glanced up to see Galbatorix's penetrating eyes on mine. He inclined his head slightly toward the red egg.

"He's restless," he murmured. "I feel it. He's a power force ready to be set free."

"He will hatch for Murtagh?"

"Yes." The king took in a breath and let it out. "Touch the egg, Reyna."

Galbatorix had only let me close to these eggs once, and that was just on a whim to see if maybe one would hatch for me. They had not, of course. But I hadn't ever been allowed to touch them. They were infinitely precious to Galbatorix. This was a great honor.

I stepped slowly up to the stand. It came up a bit higher than my waist. I reached out my fingers and very gently touched them to the shining ruby surface. I gasped as it trembled for a moment beneath my hand. Taking a breath, I stroked the stone-like shell.

"He's anxious," I murmured. Galbatorix came up beside me and I lowered my hand and looked at him. "You'll have your Rider, my lord."

Galbatorix's eyes, lighter than I had ever seen them, gazed down at me. "I will," he replied, his voice soft. His hand came up behind me and stroked my hair, coming to rest at the base of my neck. A small smile formed on my lips. As twisted and horrible as this all was, I understood it from the king's view, as I had never been exposed to anything else. I felt his satisfaction and excitement. It was the beginning of all his plans for the future, and I felt immense pride in being allowed a part of it—a part of him.

"It's late, Reyna," he sighed. "We shall save this for tomorrow."

_We_. I could hardly believe I was here right now. How could someone go from a palace maid to the King of Alagaësia's cohort?

"Get ready for bed, Reyna," he said, and I nodded, bowing to both king and dragon, and walked out.

My room was adjacent to Galbatorix's, with a door between them so he could call on me whenever he wanted. We hadn't shared a bed in a while as the defeat at Tronjheim had enraged the king, and before then it had been a random, sporadic thing, because it depended on his widely-varying moods. Lately, however (before the battle), he'd only call me to his bed to have me sleep beside him, no sex involved.

I was aware of the vast age difference between us—his life was magically elongated—but he remained looking like he was in his late thirties and, as I was in my twenties, it didn't cross my mind often. Even considering his touchiness and violent rages, I much preferred being the king's paramour to my place as a common maid and concubine. In those days I had lived in constant fear, not knowing in whose bed I would be forced into next. Most men were brutish, selfish, and had horrified me. I much preferred being able to know the man I slept with, and the king had never been cruel to me in bed. Selfish, yes, but all men were selfish. Harsh too a few times, but that and his cold civility was nothing compared to the bestial lusts of most other men in this palace.

I slipped out of my dress, shoes, and necklace in my bedroom and got on a gray satin nightgown. I combed through my thick, wavy brown hair, and carefully shaved my legs. I debated putting a touch of perfume on, then decided against it.

I went out into Galbatorix's dim room, lit by a fire in the fireplace on the far wall, then climbed into the massive bed and snuggled down to wait for him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: First of all, Credits to Linda Winstead Jones from whose book _Sun Witch_ I took sentences directly from, as I'm not a spectacular sex scene writer (at least I don't personally think so, but whatever). Also, aside, I've been told by a friend who edited this story for me that my Galbatorix was not evil enough. (Love you, Jess!) So, as forewarning, just expect that, I suppose. Truly evil characters are hard for me to craft. If you had more time with Volders in _Conflicted_, I bet he'd turn out too soft too. It's a weakness, I guess. Anyway, on with the story. Nice heated chappie for you.

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**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 2**

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He walked in a bit later, and without looking at me, changed out of his clothes into a pair of black pants of soft fabric to wear in bed, his pale chest bare. He went into the bathroom for a few minutes, then came to the bed in the dim light of the dwindling coals and lay next to me, propped on an elbow, not getting under the bedclothes himself.

I looked up at him, and I felt the entrance of his consciousness probing my mind. It was much gentler than the Twin's cruel, stabbing examination, and he ran through what had happened when he had not been with me today, and what I felt on matters.

When he pulled out, his face retained an odd expression, his mouth forming a hard line.

"I do not understand women," he said then, and I fought a smile with difficulty. He seemed to see it, however, and his eyes flattened dryly.

"Honestly," he continued, "their…_feelings_ are always completely irrational. You're an intelligent woman, and yet you harbor intense affection for Murtagh, a man who you don't really even know anymore, and who soon will be my slave in every way a man can _be_ enslaved. He will be wholly unable to return any affection even if he were to have it, which he will not because I will make it entirely impossible. You are not a person naturally drawn to evil, and still you're clinging to someone who you cannot save from it. Explain this to me, if you will."

"My lord, I am thoroughly capable of concealing any feelings I may have," I replied. "They will affect no one in any way."

"I realize you're exceptional at that particular deception, Reyna, but explain to me _why_ the phenomenon."

I replied softly, "Explain to _me_, then, my lord, why men look so condescendingly on such affections."

The king smiled broadly.

I continued in a soft voice, "Is it because they are too close-minded to grasp the depth and meaning, or, if they can comprehend, are they afraid? Are they too selfish? Or do they simply not understand? I believe there is no way to coax them out of their ignorance, for women have tried from the beginning of time, and I have seen no suggestion of any such inspiration on their part. I don't think either of us will ever know, my lord."

I was quite afraid I was being too bold, but I couldn't stop myself once I had begun. The king did not look insulted, however, only highly entertained. He gazed down at me with his strange, lighter eyes which flashed with the amusement they found in my little speech.

After gazing his fill, he chuckled in a low voice and scooped me against his side with a strong, fluid motion of his arms under the bedclothes.

"You, my dear," he said, "are a treasure. Insufferably cheeky, of course, but I peculiarly enjoy it. Only from you, however—anyone else and it'd be the last words they ever uttered. You seem to take some kind of perverse delight in toeing right up to the line, and I must admit it's entertaining."

I didn't reply, but situated myself comfortably in the crook of his arm against his chest.

"Your affections as you call them, though…they're such a weakness. I would think you wouldn't allow it."

"Everyone has their weakness, my lord."

"Oh? And what is mine?"

I paused a moment before answering, "Hate, my lord."

"Mm. But then what about anger?"

"Everyone gets angry."

"But do they not also hate?"

"Not like you, my lord," I murmured.

The king mulled this over quietly for a moment. "And that is my weakness, is it?"

"Yes."

"Explain."

"I don't know if I can."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both, I suppose."

"Well, you said it, so you must have a reason."

I sighed. "I should not have said anything. Please forget I did."

"Oh no, you got yourself into this one. Come now, Reyna. I'm quite curious."

"You know my mind, my lord. Do you not know what I think?"

"It's been a while since I've looked into that particular matter. I will if you won't tell me, though."

I let out my breath slowly. "I don't understand your designs. Perhaps because you will not share them with me, but I think because there is not much sense to make of them. And I think…if you were able to let your hate and—and your loss go, these things you strive for would become no longer necessary. You cannot do so, however, and that is why it is your weakness."

I was far too afraid to look up at his eyes after saying this. His body had grown rigid and his breath faster through his nose.

After a tense minute, he said in a voice menacing in its seriousness, "As I asked for it, I will let that go. But I do not wish to hear such opinions again, Reyna."

"Yes, my lord," I managed in a small voice. His body gradually loosened and I was safe again. I ventured a look up and he turned his head to look at me as well. He had a way of looking at one and making one feel as if he was seeing far more than your face and eyes. It used to make me extremely uncomfortable, but now I had no inhibitions about what he knew.

"How are you going to begin training him?" I asked. This excited me as well, and Galbatorix saw that. A corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"We must allow them a few days to bond, Reyna."

"Well, can't they train and bond?"

He chuckled. "Dragons are still babies when they hatch, despite what it would seem from their ability to pick their Rider from the egg. The hatchling would retain very little of any training, at least for about two weeks. Murtagh, however, will be ready within a few days. I will not have you with us for most it, though, Reyna. You're too much of a distraction."

"To whom, my lord?"

The king gave me a look. "You flatter yourself, my dear."

I grinned and tucked my head back in the crook between his shoulder and neck. He suddenly rolled over onto his side, facing me, and slid his legs under the bedclothes. He reached up a hand and took a handful of my hair in his fist and pulled me closer. He held me so tight my scalp stung, but I didn't cry out. His dominant dark eyes locked onto mine as if he thought he could hold me by his gaze alone. With his other hand he pushed my hair from the side of my face, stroking my cheek as he did so. It was one of his few and rare displays of tenderness, and it caught my breath.

"Reyna," he murmured, kissing my forehead and making me tingle in surprise. Galbatorix rarely kissed, and never on the mouth. He thought it was undignified and beneath him. I had been kissed by other men and had found them all to be repulsive. I was glad I didn't have to endure Galbatorix's lips against mine. It was a line I was glad he did not cross, for many reasons.

The hot breath from his nose lingered on my forehead.

"It's been a while."

I nodded mutely, not exactly sure what he wanted and therefore stuck between two modes.

"Hesitance?" he rumbled. "That's new. Haven't forgotten, have we?"

"Surely not, my lord," I replied, confident of what he wanted now. I reached down my arms and slowly lifted my nightgown over my head and then I was naked except for underwear. The king's eyes watched my face as I did this, so unlike most other men. He enjoys the willingness he sees, there, I think. It's a key to how I remain at his side. He loves making people do things they don't want to do—it's one of his perverse passions. When I thwart, this, however, and have no problem doing what he wants, I think it surprises him every time. He's not used to people not abhorring being in his presence.

I slipped out of my underwear and was now completely bare next to him. The next move was his. He watched me for a moment and lifted an eyebrow. He was in _that_ kind of mood. It was probably punishment for what I had said earlier. Fine, then. Rallying my courage, I shoved my body against his chest, pushing him onto his back. His eyes glinted with amusement.

I threw the bedclothes back and straddled his legs, then shimmied his pants off, chucking them behind me. I reached behind me to grasp the bedclothes, then lowered and began to kiss his skin, starting right above his genitals and moving slowly up to his neck where I laid stretched out atop him. I used a little tongue on his throat which I knew was a trigger of his; I could feel it working against my thigh.

I caressed his skin, gently at first and then not so gently. I raked my fingernails easily down his chest, careful not to mark his skin, then stroked my palms over his muscled thighs, teasing the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs until his eyes were hooded with desire and he was fully erect. Only then did I close my fingers around him and stroke the hard, hot flesh.

He yanked me up against him suddenly so that my breasts were pressed hard against his chest. Again he pulled to hard, but I didn't utter a sound. He forced me onto my back with a twist and a shove, and I laid my head on a dark, soft pillow. He aroused me in the way he had come to find I responded best to.

"Do you love me, Reyna?" he asked with a hint of mockery, and squeezing my wrist in his hand tightly. Too tightly.

I took a deep breath and replied strongly, "No, my lord."

He laughed coldly. "That is why you are my favorite. I have many women who would serve me, some of them prettier than you, and all of them trained in carnal pleasure and anxious to please. If I asked them that question they would say yes without a pause. But not you. You never have. And yet I take much more pleasure from your passion."

"I am not foolish enough to love you, my lord."

He laughed again, harsher this time. "Ah, but foolish enough to love Murtagh."

"I do not love him."

"Take care that you don't. It is the ultimate weakness." He filled me roughly and quickly, and I closed my eyes. I hated this man. Sometimes I forgot how much when I was deep into the charade of wanting to please him. But I was still utterly his slave and I abhorred it. I had learned, however, that I couldn't fool him here in this bed. I had faked my pleasure once, and he'd known. He'd hit me across the face before sending me back to the concubine rooms where any man could have me if he wanted. It has been weeks before he had asked for me again, and I hadn't forgotten that.

And then I let thoughts fall away and just felt. I screamed in pleasure as the man I hated gave me the satisfaction my body craved. I grabbed a handful of his hair and held on while waves of release swept through me. My body bucked beneath the king's. It quivered and clenched. I shuddered and gasped and clutched desperately at the man above and inside me, and then came back to reality to find cold eyes staring down into mine as he continued to ride me.

"Now do you love me?" he whispered hoarsely.

"No," I answered breathlessly. Galbatorix closed his eyes as he shook above me. He whispered some quick words I didn't understand, but knew the purpose off. It was magic that stopped his seed from impregnating me. Still, I felt him pumping into my body. Tainting me. Poisoning me.

When he was finished, he withdrew and rolled away, then promptly fell asleep, his back toward me. I felt a stab of rejection as he had sometimes allowed me to sleep in his arms even on nights not as passionate as this. I didn't know what had gone wrong, or if it was just him. It was hard to think.

I moved to crawl out of the bed, working hard to move because my body felt like jelly, when cold, sweaty fingers closed around my wrist.

"Stay," he breathed into the pillow, and I moved back and lay next to him. Exhausted, I fell quickly asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 3**

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I lay propped on an elbow watching him sleep in the almost-darkness of morning, as the room had no windows. He was on his stomach facing me, his head turned toward me, his mouth open a fraction. The bedclothes were over him to about mid-back, his black, slightly grey-streaked hair disheveled.

It was rare for me to catch him asleep; normally when I would wake up he would always be gone. It was strange without his piercing eyes on me. I could be who I really was right now. I was suddenly tempted to make a face at him, but I restrained myself, and then sighed. Even asleep he governed my actions. How very sad.

Now, however, I was free to look at his face without being stared back at. I didn't have to guard my expressions. Even this small freedom seemed a privilege. I noiselessly contemplated his face and what I could see of his body. It was strange how different he looked when asleep and I could just listen to my thoughts instead of having to race my mind ahead to match his.

Some people look innocent when they sleep. There was no way the King of Alagaësia could ever look innocent. There was just something about his face and eyebrows that were permanently set on intimidating. He was a lean man, but not thin, and his muscles could plainly be seen under his pale skin.

I wanted to go with him to Murtagh today. I wanted to be there when he woke. Would he remember me? Perhaps I had changed more than he had. Perhaps he had found a love that had crowded out memories of us. If he didn't know me, it would make things easier, I knew, but it would still hurt. But then I could hurt now instead of later when he's lost to Galbatorix and to dark, consuming magic. It would have to be one or the other.

Galbatorix is quite right. Feelings are weaknesses—at least in this palace.

His eyes suddenly opened and I felt him enter and search my mind, surprised at being caught unaware. When he was satisfied I wasn't mulling over killing him in his sleep or something, he pulled out and stared at me a moment before tossing his legs over the side of the bed and crossing to his wardrobe for some fresh clothes.

I scrambled out of the room and through the door into mine, grabbing for some fresh clothes as well. I put on one of my favorite dresses—a royal dark blue and a gift to me from the king himself just a few months ago.

"I will wait, Reyna," he said from the other room, his voice carrying through the wall. I exhaled slowly, relieved, and continued dressing more easily. I got on my clothes and the jewelry that accented it, then brushed and pulled back my hair into an attractive, curly bun.

I touched up my face, used the bathroom, and then walked back out into the king's bedroom. He was sitting on the bed, his back against the bedboard, and got up when I came out. He walked out the door and I followed, excitement building in my stomach. I did not betray it, however, as I matched the king's strides.

The Twins were guarding the outer magically-sealed door. I swallowed uneasily, afraid to encounter them again. Neither looked at me, however, as they opened the door for the king, then followed him into the hall and Murtagh's room.

I came in last to see them clustered around the sleeping young man's bed.

"Behind me, Reyna," Galbatorix said, and I stepped back behind him, though I could still see Murtagh's face.

The king murmured a word in the Ancient Language, and Murtagh stirred, then opened his eyes. When he saw the king, he grew incredibly still and fear etched itself deeply on his face. His eyes flicked over to the Twins, then around the room once, but of course he saw no way to escape.

Galbatorix grinned chillingly and Murtagh recoiled visibly. I wanted to comfort him, but could do nothing.

"Welcome back, Murtagh," he said coldly. Murtagh stared at him, his nostrils flaring as his breath was coming fast.

"You are in Urû'baen," Galbatorix said.

"I've gathered that," Murtagh replied hoarsely. He cleared his throat and I raised my eyebrows, startled at his boldness to mock the king. Didn't he know what awaited him?

I couldn't see Galbatorix's face but could imagine it from the look on Murtagh's. The Twins hissed softly.

"Have you also _gathered_," Galbatorix growled, "that you will now pay for running away from me years ago like the sniveling coward you are? Have you _gathered_ that because you ran you will be forced into servitude as you cannot be trusted without an oath? _Have you gathered_," the king thundered, "that you will be forced to go against the Varden and your friend Eragon in battle? Tell me what you've gathered, Murtagh, son of Morzon!"

Murtagh quailed under the king's rage, but, to his credit, he didn't tremble or show any weakness other than fear of the king instilled in him when he was small. The king shifted his imposing glower to the Twins.

"Take him to the one of the rooms on the lower level." His eyes flashed as he read something in their minds. "Yes, that one will do."

"Follow us," commanded the Twins together. Murtagh glanced at Galbatorix, then got stiffly off the bed, a look of hatred mixed with hopelessness on his features. At least he knew better than trying to resist them. He followed them, a slight limp to his walk—probably do to the harsh gash I had seen on his leg when he was bathed.

Galbatorix followed them out, and I followed him. He slowed slightly to let me walk beside him. I looked at him, but his face was set, watching the Twins and Murtagh walking ahead of us.

We rounded a corner and Murtagh glanced back at us. He did a double-take and stopped abruptly, staring at me, his eyes wide.

"Reyna?" he asked, staring at my face incredulously. The Twins grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him forward. He continued to gape back at me as they forced him along.

"Reyna, is that you?" he asked again. I nodded once, keeping my face carefully expressionless even as his gray eyes were puréeing my insides. He stared at me, seeming unable to get enough of my face.

"Behind me, Reyna," Galbatorix commanded.

I immediately fell back, and Murtagh glanced at the king, then back at me with an 'oh no' look.

"Reyna…" he breathed, watching me with a pained expression as the Twins continued to force him along.

"I do not wish for you to be with us today, Reyna," Galbatorix said then.

"I don't think I wish to be there either, my lord," I replied quietly.

He half-smiled briefly and Murtagh stared at both of us, his eyes flicking between one and then the other.

"Perhaps you could visit Shruikan," Galbatorix suggested. "He's out on the grounds at the moment, but should be back within the hour."

"I will do so, my lord," I replied respectfully. I bowed, then stopped and allowed the group to continue ahead and disappear around a corner, Murtagh staring at me all the while. I breathed deeply as I walked away down the hall, barely thinking about where I was going. _Murtagh_. His name kept repeating in my mind like a deliciously forbidden word. One I knew I shouldn't be thinking about but love doing so. Oh god, I couldn't think about him. Shruikan. Going to see Shruikan. Focus, Reyna.

I decided I needed a bath before going to see Shruikan as I still smelled faintly of sex from last night. So I made my way through the familiar halls back to my room and took a quick one, then got my dress back on and did my hair and light makeup again.

Shruikan's chambers were a system of huge, cavernous rooms adjacent to the kitchens on the ground floor where he received his meals and had access to the spacious, forested grounds. He had an enormous pillow for a bed, and a whole private team of servants to clean and preen and take prodigious care of him.

Still, he's a beast of a dragon and for all his pampering retains an aloof and hostile air. He's hard to understand because he's just as moody as his master and cannot speak human aloud. However, just as Galbatorix favors me, as does his dragon. And because both he and the king have the ability to access my mind, they also have the ability to project their thoughts into it. It's exactly like having a conversation in one's head, but the first time Shruikan tried I freaked out a little. It had been extremely unsettling, that alien presence in my consciousness. But I'd grown used to the impulsive behavior of both king and dragon, and Shruikan's mind-projectings no longer unnerved me.

I entered his arched chambers and saw he hadn't returned yet. I made myself comfortable against the cold stone wall (you can get used to anything) and waited.

It was only a few minutes before I heard the great dragon's heavy wings buffeting the air and he landed outside. I felt him probe me to see who the person in his rooms was, and then he entered.

I stood and bowed respectfully to him. "Good morning, Shruikan."

_Galbatorix sent you? _ he asked in my head in his deep voice that emanated dark power and mighty strength.

"Yes," I replied. I didn't really have to answer aloud because he would know as soon as I thought it, but it kept me sane. "Would you like some company?"

_Perhaps. _

That was as good an answer as I could expect. I smiled at him and walked over to him when he lay down on his pillow. I climbed with a grin onto the enormous thing, my legs sinking up to the knee. He watched me with amusement in his yellow-orange silted eyes as I sat down.

_Murtagh is awake, then?_

"Would you like to see?"

He blinked in response, and I closed my eyes and went through my memories of the previous half-hour. That of course included my feelings on said events, but I had learned long ago that it wasn't worth it to try and hide anything from Galbatorix and Shruikan.

When it was done, the dragon surveyed me quietly.

_You care about Murtagh. _

"As you see."

_Apparently he cares about you._

"It does not matter what he cares about."

_In most cases, that is all too correct. But in others his cares could be useful. _

"Useful against him, you mean."

_He will soon no longer be an individual, Reyna. He will simply be Galbatorix's pawn. Things will not be against him, but against the forces of the Varden and for the good of the Empire. _

"Are you really able to make someone no longer themselves?"

_Magic and cruelty can do anything, Reyna. _

"I thought magic could not bring people back from the dead."

_It can even do that. But at the expense of the magic-caster's own life. Murtagh will be stripped of his humanity. You cannot stop that. _

"I know that, Shruikan. I am not looking for a way to thwart the king's plans. It's quite impossible."

_If it were not so impossible, would you look then?_

"Yes, I suppose. Though I have loyalty, it is not willing loyalty. You know that."

_You resent your place?_

"I'm quite fond of my place, actually. It's the best of my few options and is exciting enough for me to enjoy."

_Enjoy? _

"Yes. Is it surprising that I do?"

_No. You've always been resourceful. And the way you've grown up you know that your position is privileged and honorable. _

I nodded and we were quiet for a moment. "I'm very excited for the new dragon. Are you?"

Shruikan blinked slowly at me. _Yes. _

"You can train him and guide him and hang with him… It'll be fun."

_Instructing a young, obstinate dragon in how to combat in life-and-death situations will hardly be fun. I imagine we'll come to despise each other. _

"Oh, I doubt it. He'll idolize you. I would if I were him. And it'll give you something constructive to do with your time. Not that terrorizing the palace guards isn't constructive."

Shruikan grinned widely, displaying his flawlessly-white fangs and his body shook with a chuckle.

_You are the only person in this palace that dares poke fun at me. _

"What about the king?"

_The king does not "poke fun". _

"Right. He's more of the psychologically-scarring type, isn't he?"

_Careful, Reyna. _

"Sorry," I replied, humbling my face.

_I applaud your wit, but it will get you into trouble one of these days. _

"I'll work on it."

Shruikan suddenly jerked his head up and around to stare at the wall of his chamber, though it didn't look as if he were really seeing the wall. He growled deeply for a moment then took in a deep breath and turned his head back to me.

I didn't ask because I felt that was disrespectful, but he sensed my question and said simply, _Murtagh is receiving punishment. _

"Magical or physical?" I asked quietly.

_Punishment,_ was all he answered.

I swallowed and my brow creased in anxiety. I had never been on the receiving end of Galbatorix's wrath. His displeasure yes, his frustration yes, and I'd been around him when he was angry at someone or something else. But I could not imagine his raging vengeance like Murtagh must be feeling.

I glanced at Shruikan to see him gazing at me, his eyes hard.

_Stop it, Reyna. It is foolish to care what happens to him. Do not be foolish. _

I ducked my head and didn't reply. "What's happening, Shruikan?" I whispered.

_Galbatorix does not want you to know. You do not want to be a part of this, Reyna. _

"I know I don't. I just can't imagine… I…I don't want to know." Trying to get my mind off what Murtagh was going through, I gazed at Shruikan's shiny black scales.

_You may touch them if you wish. _

I glanced up at him and lifted a hand to trail my fingers gently across his scales. "They're beautiful."

_Yes._

I smiled. Shruikan growled again and I froze, but he was glaring toward the wall again, sensing something I could not. I stroked his scales gently and he shifted his rippling muscles underneath my hand.

_Reyna. _

"Yes?"

_I would not go to Galbatorix tonight. _

"Is that acceptable?"

_He will understand. _

"Should I stay with you?"

_That would be wise._

"That's why he sent me to you, then, isn't it?"

_Perhaps. _

"That was nice of him to dump me on you all day." I grinned.

The dragon rolled his eyes. _I may store you in my mouth for the duration if you become tiresome. _

I giggled and he looked at me.

_You'd fit, you know._

I nodded, suppressing a grin.

_Think that's funny, do you? _he rumbled.

I shook my head quickly. "No!"

He stood up and snapped at me. I rolled away and squealed.

"Shruikan!"

The dragon roared suddenly, blasting my eardrums as well as scaring me out of my wits. He pushed my stunned body over with his nose and I heard his laughter in my head. My frozen muscles relaxed and I exhaled slowly.

"My _god_, Shruikan," I breathed.

_You were frozen like a rabbit. _He laugh-roared and watched as I sat up and scowled at him.

"That was not nice."

_You should've seen your face, Reyna. You're almost as fun as the guards, but you freeze instead of scurrying around. I like when they scurry. _

"I'm so sorry I can't be of more amusement," I replied dryly.

_Don't be sore, Reyna. _

"If you would give my system a minute to recover, I think I'll be alright."

He chuckled.

"Y'know, I think I'm deaf in my right ear now."

_You poor thing. _

I smacked his scaly hide. "You're a cruel beastie."

_Indeed. _

I hung out with Shruikan for the rest of the day. He was tough to get along with, but then, so was I. We made an amusing duo. I would make fun of him and he would threaten me. It was how we got along and we both somehow enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the incredulous looks I got from the guards as they watched me walk casually by the side of a ferocious dragon the size of a large dinosaur.

It was probably because I hadn't seen him be ferocious that I didn't think this title fitted. I mean, I saw him hassle people, but I knew that was just for fun, even if they did not. And he had never been ruthlessly violent around me. But I supposed there was a vicious monster in him; after all, that was how he had been trained. He also had a wealth of dark magic at his disposal; not quite as much as his master, but still more than any other human or dragon. He was the king of dragons, really, now that I thought about it.

I was thinking these things as we walked the fringe of trees at the beginning of the section of forest on the palace grounds. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was just gearing up for its blazing sunset colors.

Shruikan looked over at my thoughtful face, and inquired after what I was thinking.

"I'm trying to imagine you in battle," I replied truthfully.

_And what is your success?_

"Well, as I haven't seen you in serious monster mode, it's proving hard to picture."

_I suppose I could remedy that. It might just inspire a little more respect for me as well. _

"Don't stalk me, please; I don't think my nerves could handle such a thing."

The dragon laughed in roars.

_I believe I shall save a live demonstration for another time. I was thinking of something else. Would you like to see a memory?_

I looked up at his yellow-orange eyes and nodded slowly. What would he show me?

The dragon stopped, sat, and lowered his head so that his eyes were level with mine.

_Close your eyes. _

I did so, and a scene swam into focus on the black of my eyelids. I was suddenly gripped by an excruciatingly painful chokehold on my mind and heart. It felt as if I could not breathe. Nothing was as it should be, I was—

The pain stopped suddenly and I got the feeling Shruikan had edited that from his memory somehow. In fact, it seemed as if he had taken out all his feelings and thoughts, and had left only what had been seen.

The scene dissolved from his point of view to someone else's and then I could see Shruikan in front of me. I realized I was watching from Galbatorix's point of view, and Shruikan could show this to me because it had been in his mind as well.

The Shruikan before me was much smaller. But there was something very abnormal about him in the way he moved and looked. His eyes were wild and he seemed submersed in dark magic—he even had an aura of darkness that I realized was coming from Galbatorix.

The young Shruikan was facing a group of three large dragons and their Riders. As I watched, the Riders charged forward and I was sure they would crush small Shruikan. But Shruikan lashed right, left, snarling with inhuman rage, pain, and ferocity. He was an unstoppable mass of darkness and he decimated the onslaught. The dragons he ripped apart, though they were twice his size. Their Riders were powerless to stop him from tackling them from their saddles and tearing off their limbs. Swords he shattered with a simple glare, dragon scales he ripped through with one ghastly black claw.

The sky swirled darker and darker above the scene as Galbatorix climbed up to look down upon the destruction his lethal slave had wrought. The ground was awash with the blood of noble men and their dragons, the air pierced with the dying screams that told of the worst pain in the world—when one's own soul is ripped away.

When the last scream came to an end, Shruikan threw back his small head and screamed in exactly the same way. The sky, the very earth, seemed to split at the sound. But then Galbatorix yelled something into the wind and that scream became a roar of fury again, and the rings and binds of darkness that encircled Shruikan closed and closed until they were inside of him and were squeezing his insides until he was no longer himself and there was silence.

I opened my eyes to find myself gasping and clutching onto Shruikan's leg with all my might. My throat was raw as if I too had been screaming. I pressed my face against the hard scales and gasped for breath. I felt as if hands had just been pulled away from a chokehold around my throat.

I thought I was shaking, then realized it was the tree trunk-sized limb my arms were wrapped around that was shaking.

_Damn it, Reyna, let go. _

Shruikan shook his leg roughly and sent me tumbling in the grass. I got up slowly and watched him walk away. He sat, his spiny back toward me.

What he had said about Murtagh abruptly ran through my mind. '_He will soon no longer be an individual. He will simply be Galbatorix's pawn. Magic and cruelty can do anything, Reyna._' I wondered now if he was not speaking only of Murtagh, but of himself as well.

I approached the mammoth dragon cautiously. "Shruikan?" I murmured.

He didn't reply. I looked at his scaly hide. I had an urge to comfort him, but I was afraid. The memory had shaken me in many ways. The dragon I knew had not changed, however, and I swallowed my fear and reached out a hand to touch his side gently. He turned his head away and breathed deeply.

_I had not meant for it to be like that. I didn't have as much control of it as I had thought I would. _

"That's alright," I whispered.

He growled softly. I turned and sat in the grass a few yards away, watching the sun set. I didn't want to think of what I had seen through Shruikan. I didn't want to think of the hell he silently lived in everyday. I didn't want to experience that pain again.

I thought about Murtagh as the blinding sun sank slowly below the hazy mountain line. It was a nice thing to think about, however foolish it was. I etched his face in my mind. It formed as a kind of combination of the man I was he was now and the teenager I had known. It was a picture without the shadow of hardship and darkness on his features and in his eyes, without the marks of war and pain. It was an image of what he could've been had life been kinder.

I tried to imagine how I would be if I had grown up as just a common girl in a town of the Empire, and not as the King's servant and paramour. If I had not grown up trying to hide who I really was. If I were free.

I found it impossible, not to mention a pointless exercise. Things were as they were, and I could not change any part of it. I was caught up in the current of Galbatorix and was utterly bound to him and all his whims. The sun sank so that its last sliver of light above the horizon disappeared. It was suddenly colder. I brought my arms closer around me.

_We'll go inside now. _

I stood and wordlessly followed the black dragon back to the palace and into his chambers. He lay on his enormous pillow and I curled up in a corner of it and closed my eyes.

I couldn't fall asleep, however. It was cold in the open chambers and there were far too many things on my mind.

_Come here, Reyna. _

I looked up at the yellow-orange eyes, stark in the darkening twilight, and moved closer to the warm dragon. I curled up again beside his massive belly and was soon asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 4**

…………………………………………………………

My eyes fluttered open as a huff of hot air hit my face. I was staring up at two enormous dragon eyes. I gasped in alarm, but then remembered where I was. I sighed and relaxed, sinking back down against Shruikan's warm belly. I traced a large black scale with the tips of my fingers absently and wondered when I would have to go back to the king.

_He'll summon you when he wishes. _

I blinked, not noticing the dragon's presence in my mind—I had grown used to it. I laid my head down on his hard, scaly hide rising up and down with his breathing.

_What sort of mood will he be in? _I asked in my head.

_I don't know. But remember his anger is not at you._

_I know. _I sighed. I'd been around him when he was worse. Still, yesterday had been fun and carefree…except for the end. I didn't want to leave Shrukan; we both took pleasure from this companionship.

My stomach growled loudly and I smiled sheepishly.

_You should go get breakfast. _

_I'm fine. _

_Galbatorix may not think of your needs when he summons you. _

I shrugged. Then seemingly right on cue, a servant entered the chamber, bowing low.

"Master Shruikan, the King my lord requests Lady Reyna's presence," he said in a slightly higher-pitched voice because he was probably not used to addressing a gigantic dragon. 'Lady Reyna'. Ha. What a crock. Though I supposed he couldn't just call me 'Reyna' as I was a favored courtesan to the king.

I stood and bowed to Shruikan who inclined his massive dark head in response. I followed the servant out into the hall and to Galbatorix's rooms. The servant bowed shortly to me, a gesture I was not used to—at least, not addressed to me—and I entered the room.

The first thing I saw was breakfast laid out on a table by the wall. My eyes then moved to Galbatorix standing in the middle of the room facing me, his hands behind his back—his usual stance. His face looked placid enough.

I bowed to him in greeting. "My lord."

The king inclined his head slightly toward the food laid out. "Have some breakfast, Reyna."

"Thank you, my lord." I moved to the table and sat down to eat.

"Did Shruikan behave himself?" the king asked absently.

"He did," I replied, cutting some sausage.

The king did not reply but went to sit in a chair by the fireplace. I ate quietly as he kept his characteristic brooding silence.

When I finished my meal, I looked up to see him watching me.

"To your satisfaction?" he asked.

"Always, my lord."

It was quiet again.

"Aren't you wondering what we're doing today?" he inquired. "Or have you lost the excitement for it?"

"I am wondering. But if you wish me to know, you shall tell me."

"Hm." He looked toward the fire. "Go bathe and change, Reyna. You're dirty. Why you and Shruikan insist on wandering the grounds when you're together I don't understand."

"I enjoy being outdoors, my lord," I answered, walking into my adjacent bedroom. "It's something to do, at any rate."

"The Twins described it as 'romping'," he said, sounding mildly intrigued. "I don't believe I can quite picture Shurikan 'romping'."

"I believe I bring out the more playful part of his nature, sire," I replied, grinning, and stripping out of my dress.

"That is another adjective I wouldn't imagine one could use to describe him," Galbatorix said. "Playful. Perhaps he's growing soft."

"I seriously doubt that, my lord. He threatened to store me in his mouth if I grew annoying."

The king laughed. "That'd be a sight. I believe you would fit, Reyna."

"So he said."

The king laughed again and I stepped into the bath and began to wash. "What else did the Twins say about us?" I asked, curious.

He sighed. "They are irritatingly overdramatic. I had to look into their minds. Tedious. There was one part I thought seemed rather strange, however. Perhaps you know the part, Reyna."

"Perhaps." What a Shruikan answer. What was I going to say? How could I tell the truth without getting Shruikan in trouble? I tried for a distraction. "What do you wish for me to wear, my lord?"

"Something quite attractive, Reyna. I shall take much pleasure in showing you off to Murtagh. You know, he was furious when I told him of how you serve me; how you used to serve this palace and the men in it. He forgot himself for a moment in rage. It's interesting how you both have harbored feelings over the years; it's much more than I expected. And it gave me an idea of how to use you.

"You will be a training tool. I will teach him with you how feelings can cripple him. I will beat them out of him until his is impenetrable to that weakness. Your part is very important, Reyna. It hinges on your ability to reveal and then hide your emotions, an art I believe you have perfected, that is why I think this will work so very well. However, you must do exactly as I say, or he will see through it and become rebellious. Do you understand, Reyna?"

All too well. "Yes, my lord," I replied, keeping my voice perfectly unaffected. Inside, I was careening downward. I knew what he would do—dangle me in front of Murtagh and then have me say or do things to hurt him. Cut him. Break his heart. He would come to hate me. I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears. My choice was either to destroy all I had worked my entire life for, or to destroy the only person I truly cared about, and in the process of destroying him, I would probably destroy most of myself as well.

The injustice of these choices seared through me. But that was the price for living under the King of Alagaësia. Evil. Twisted rules. Hate. Cruelty. This was my world. Would the king kill me for going against him? Yes. Betrayal was something the king abhorred and I was close enough to him for it to be deadly. So therefore my choices were live or die. I only had the hope that things could somehow get better. I suppose Shruikan would call that foolishness.

The king was quiet, knowing exactly what he had just done. He doubtless was getting twisted satisfaction out of it. The bathwater was suddenly very cold. I stepped out, dripping, and wound a towel around my slim body. There seemed no way to escape the consuming darkness. Just like Shruikan, I was utterly trapped and enslaved.

I dried off and numbly looked through my wardrobe. I picked out a striking green dress that would compliment my figure. I slipped on shoes and then a necklace and earrings, and went to the mirror to brush my hair, teeth, and touch up my face.

When I was done I walked out to Galbatorix. He sized me up, then murmured a word and my scalp suddenly tingled. I reached up to it, and found my hair was dry.

"Put it up. But different from yesterday's," he commanded.

I nodded and went back into the bathroom. I put some of my hair up in a flaring bun, then left some strands to frame my face and give my hair a sexier look. I walked back out. Galbatorix smiled, satisfied.

"You're quite good at knowing exactly what I want," he said as I followed him out. I didn't reply as we walked along the hall.

"You are to take his breakfast to him, Reyna. Alone."

I swallowed. "This will be…difficult, my lord."

The king laughed harshly. "Of course it will. But I have faith in you, Reyna. Do not let me down."

I steeled my expression and again made no reply. We continued walking, and I asked, "What state is he in?"

"He will appear somewhat damaged. Not physically—I magically erased the damage I had inflicted in that respect before I left. However, he will recover soon enough, so don't conflict yourself by worrying over him."

"Did he swear himself to you, my lord?"

"No. Right now he would die before doing so. However, once he gets a dragon and acquires that bond, his outlook will be much different. He will owe me for his dragon, and also he will know I can easily kill it if I wish. He will not know his dragon is invaluable to me. And so to protect the life of the one now dearer to him than anything or anyone including himself, he will swear to me."

We neared the door to Murtagh's hallway guarded by the Twins. A servant with a breakfast tray was beside them. Galbatorix fixed his eyes on mine.

"You may be kind to him and comfort him in any way you wish, but do not speak to him of anything I have told you. Do not tell him you cannot tell him these things. Do not tell him what you know you should not tell him for the success of my plan."

No loopholes whatsoever. How like Galbatorix. I spoke the phrase in the Ancient Language that bound me to his words, and then took the breakfast tray from the servant.

"Do your job well, Reyna," he said as I walked in and the door shut behind me.

The breakfast tray was warm in my hands. I walked slowly to Murtagh's door and held the tray on one hand while I opened it.

Murtagh was lying on his bed, his face ashen and his eyes staring at the ceiling but not seeing it. I walked quietly over to set the tray on the table next to his bed.

"Breakfast, Murtagh," I murmured, sitting gently next to him. He didn't look at me. My heart ached for him—what he must've gone through. I felt guilty that I had been enjoying myself with Shruikan while he was tortured. I touched his arm gently.

I felt a stab when I felt his muscles were trembling. His skin felt unnaturally cold, like Galbatorix's. It must be an affect of dark magic upon a person. I rubbed his hand tenderly, trying to soothe him.

"Murtagh…" I murmured, by voice breaking. I laced my fingers in his cold ones and reached up my other hand to touch his pale, achingly familiar face. A tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn't allowed myself to cry in years.

I brought his hand up and kissed his fingers. My tear left a drop on his skin. I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand. His unseeing eyes blinked and moved to me. His body shook violently.

I held his hand tightly in mine and waited for his tremors to still. He blinked rapidly at me, breathing quickly.

"Reyna," he choked in a raspy voice. I brought his hand to my cheek and nodded, another tear squeezing its way out. Murtagh's tortured eyes fixed on it and he moved his hand in mine to rub it off my cheek before it could fall.

I twisted my lips to keep from sobbing. This was impossible. How could I break Murtagh's heart? He was in agony and I was in agony for him. The question was did I care about him more than I did myself? But then even if I did die before hurting him, would not Galbatorix triumph anyway? He would just destroy Murtagh in another way. There was no solution, no right way, only hard or harder. I could only kiss his chilled fingers and let my tears fall.

"Reyna," he forced out again. The sound of my name on his lips was unbearable.

"I'm here, Murtagh," I soothed, keeping my pain at bay. "I'm here." I pressed his hand against my lips and closed my eyes. He was still trembling. I wanted to take him in my arms and rock him and kiss him. Why were my feelings so unmanageable?

"You're alright," I soothed, rubbing his arm, his chest, trying to calm his muscles. His jaw trembled, his eyes hollow and screaming at me, and I couldn't take it anymore. Choking on a sob, I pulled him up against me, his head to my chest, and held him fiercely, kissing and kissing his head.

I pulled his body to me and rocked him. This was all I could do to help him, and I wanted it to be as much as possible. I moved so that my back was against the bedboard, and I had his head cradled in an arm, the other around his waist, keeping him as close to me as possible.

"Murtagh…Murtagh," I murmured over and over. I pushed his unruly black locks away from his face and kissed his head. When the flow of my tears slowed to a stop, I realized he was clinging to me as well. He had stopped trembling constantly, only little bits now and then. I pressed my lips to his hair and closed my eyes as if I could breathe him in. There were so many things in my head—memories and emotions and thoughts all whirling together and crushing each other.

"Reyna," I heard. It was so far away. "Reyna."

I blinked and gentled my grip on the young man in my arms. "Murtagh?"

I felt him inhale and exhale deeply. "Everything's d-dark, Reyna. I can b-barely see."

"It's alright," I murmured.

He made a growling noise. "How is a-anything alright?" he demanded in a low, faltering voice.

"Fine then, Murtagh. Nothing is alright. Nothing is ever alright in this fucking place. Does that make you feel better?" I snapped, feeling suddenly peevish.

"Yeah it does," he replied slowly. "At least I know you're n-not completely insane."

I sighed and smiled halfheartedly. "Maybe not completely. Not yet, anyway. Can you move?"

He took a breath. "Not well. I don't have much strength."

"Okay." I moved his head back from my chest to rest against my shoulder, and pressed my cheek to his head. "Are you hungry? I brought breakfast. It's the only reason I'm allowed to be here."

"Reyna, Galbatorix said some things."

I took a deep breath in and out. I knew what was coming. "What things?"

Murtagh moved his head back with an effort to look me in the eyes. "Do you share his bed?" His voice was stronger than it had been. His eyes were hard.

I looked away from him, shame burning in my stomach. "Things have changed, Murtagh," I said softly, my eyes betraying my sadness and conflict. "After you left, I…" I faltered. This was hard. "I matured physically and I was noticed. I became a…"

"A _concubine_," he growled. "A palace whore!"

I shrunk away from his anger.

"How could you let him do that to you, Reyna?! _Why_ would you let him do that to you?!"

"Apparently you think I had a choice," I replied, my shame turning to anger. I let go of his head and let it drop to the pillow so that I could glare down at him. "I didn't _ask_ to be a _palace_ _whore_ as you so graciously put it. How dare you accuse me of anything, Murtagh? You were gone and I was alone. Do you know how it feels to be alone? How about being raped, abused, and demoralized?" The tears began to fall again, but I could not stop. I turned my face away from him and squeezed my eyes shut. All my feelings of desertion when he had left rose to the surface now. "How about crawling through dark halls in the dead of night bleeding? Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? Have you had to keep your own emotions locked deep inside of you so that you can _survive_? Oh, and what about being abandoned?" I said through gritted teeth. "Have you ever been abandoned, Murtagh?"

His eyes held oceans of pain and regret. But before he could say a word that would melt my anger, I finished, "So yes. Galbatorix fucks me whenever he royally wishes. If that's too much for you, I'll leave right now so you don't have to be tainted any longer by my sordid presence."

"Reyna," murmured his broken, agonized voice, and he reached out to grasp my hand. "Please, Reyna, that's not what I…" Tears choked his voice, and my head fell down onto his chest as I broke down into sobbing.

"I didn't mean that, Reyna," he breathed, holding me to him as tightly as his weary muscles could manage. "I'm angry at Galbatorix, not you, never you… Reyna, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…I…" He took deep breaths so he could get it out. "I couldn't tell you I was leaving because then you'd be punished by Galbatorix, and I couldn't take you because of how dangerous it was—it could've been you killed instead of Tornac and I never would've forgiven myself…" His body shook. "It killed me that I had to leave you…I…I blame myself for everything and I just hated that Galbatorix had—"

"Murtagh," I interrupted quickly, wiping my tears away to see him, "It's not your fault. It's not. I was just so…it just seemed like everything boiled to the surface suddenly and you were just here for me to bitch at. _I'm_ sorry. I know you had to leave and I'm glad you did, otherwise it just would've been the both of us stuck in hell."

"Yeah, but I'm back aren't I?" he said darkly. "If I had stayed I would've been here for you though all of it."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter, it can't be changed. But this…my situation…it isn't your fault." I laid my head back on his chest and sighed deeply.

"I'm just so helpless before him, Reyna…" he murmured, his low voice betraying how much he hated looking weak.

"As is everyone."

"Everything's just so _wrong_…"

"You get used to it," I mumbled. "I did."

He stroked my hair. It was the same thing Galbatorix did, but so much more comforting. I could trust this. It was sincere. I kissed Murtagh's shirted chest and sighed.

"I haven't cried in years," I murmured.

"Neither have I."

For some reason I laughed at this, then sighed deeply again. He braided his fingers through my hair and I relaxed, incredibly soothed by the touch.

"I've missed you," I whispered.

Murtagh exhaled slowly and chuckled humorlessly under his breath. "You have no idea how much I've missed _you_. When I saw you beside Galbatorix in the hall…you looked so different, but I knew to my core it was you. You were so beautiful I couldn't think. I just stared as everything from all those years ago came flooding back… Do you know how beautiful you are?"

"Usually I just wish I wasn't."

"Don't." He brought my hand up to his face and kissed it. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of his lips against my skin.

"Murtagh, I'm going to have to go," I sighed. "He'll notice I've been gone for too long."

He grimaced.

"I want to stay," I murmured very quietly, nestling my cheek against his chest. "I knew yesterday what he was planning to do to you and I wanted to help but I could do nothing. At least I can be here now. I'll help in any way I can, but there's not much I can do except steal moments to be with you."

"That'll be enough," he said quietly.

I shook my head slowly. "I'm afraid it won't. I've seen what Galbatorix can do, Murtagh—"

"So have I," he said in a hard voice.

I took a slow breath. "I know. But what he does to people… A moment with me will never make up for what he'll do. It'll be slow so you don't really notice that much. But ever so slowly he'll take your soul away. I've seen it. I've felt it."

"He won't get either of ours."

"Magic and cruelty can do anything, Murtagh," I murmured softly, repeating Shruikan's words. Oh how I understood them now.

"No, we can win this, Reyna. You pulled me out of his darkness this time and you can do it again. And I can pull you out as well. We just need to trust each other and no one else." He lifted my chin with a finger so that I looked him in the eyes. "I trust you."

I wanted to scream 'Don't trust me, don't ever trust me' but couldn't because of the oath I had given to Galbatorix. Instead I replied softly, "I trust you, Murtagh."

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes and a tear fell. I felt his hand brush it away. His hand was warmer now. At least I'd done that much for him.

"You won't need me soon," I sighed. "You'll have another."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding indignant and ready to argue.

"I ca—" I was stopped by the oath. "You'll find out," I said softly. "Soon. And Galbatorix will have you, body and soul."

"I'll die before letting him have me," he growled, the words coming from between his clenched teeth.

"You say that now," I murmured, laying my head down weakly on his chest. I was powerless to stop this from happening.

"Do you think I'm lying? I am not that weak. I'm not going to give into him—I've learned that lesson, and I won't betray you or my friends."

"You have friends?" I asked, curious.

He laughed. "What, surprised? I do, actually. Have you heard of the new Dragon Rider?"

I became very still.

"I met him and we traveled together, fought together at the battle of Tronjheim."

"I know," I said quietly. _And he's your brother_, _Murtagh_. I hated these secrets that separated us. If we could just get away…

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I shook my head. "There's so many things I—" I was stopped again.

"So many things you what?"

I shook my head. "I have to go."

"Reyna…"

"I'll see you as soon as I can," I murmured. "Please eat some breakfast." I turned and walked quietly out.


	5. Chapter 5

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 5**

…………………………………………………………

I used the bathroom in Murtagh's hall to make my appearance presentable again. I wiped away all traces of tears and the light runs at the corners of my eyes. I straightened my dress, redid my hair, and then walked out to knock on the door, steeling myself again for the cold world.

It was opened and, as before, neither of the Twins met my eyes as they opened the door and I walked past. They still gave me the creeps, though, and I was glad I was under the protection of Galbatorix.

I went back to his room, but found it empty. I hadn't been given permission to go searching for him and, really, I did not want to see the king. My thoughts and emotions were still worked up and I knew his perceptions would easily see through into the turmoil within me.

I wandered the halls and corridors aimlessly, thinking. It was nice to have some time to myself; all my time seemed to be for and about the king. Depressingly, really, because I despised the man. I had something more to give my days meaning, now, however. Although how long that lasted was again up to Galbatorix.

I had been excited about the red egg hatching for Murtagh, but now I was not. It seemed to mark the point of no return. The minute Murtagh was connected to his dragon was the moment Galbatorix owned him completely, just like he owned the rest of us. I didn't want that for Murtagh. But then, I didn't want him dead either, which was the other alternative. It was all far too complicated and full of dead ends any way I looked. The more I thought about it all, the more it drained me. I just had to acquiesce to the fact that there was simply nothing I could do that I wasn't already doing. The king was inflexible. Murtagh was doomed. I was trapped. Shruikan was enslaved.

I stopped and leaned against the wall. I was not going to cry again. Murtagh would ever be the only one to see my tears, just like when we were children. But I could close my eyes and lean my back heavily against the wall. I breathed deeply and studied the emerald fabric of my dress sleeve without really seeing it.

I'd also probably be jealous of the dragon. The word seemed horribly petty, but I knew myself well enough to know it would probably be true, though of course I would show no sign of it outwardly. I was reaching out to Murtagh and making myself vulnerable—I expected him to reach as well. But with a new baby dragon consuming his attention, time, and affection, I would be pushed to the side. And it would hurt.

_Foolishness_ said the Shruikan-voice in my head.

_Weakness_ added the Galbatorix alter-conscience.

_Shut up, both of you_, I growled.

I was going mental.

I pushed myself off the wall and headed off down the hall again with no idea where I wanted to go.

I was tempted to go back to Murtagh. The comfort of his arms had been hard to leave, and I wish I hadn't. I had just needed to get out of there right then—there was so much I desperately wanted to tell him and I felt like my control was close to slipping, though it wasn't like I would've been able to say anything important. But Galbatorix would've known that I had tried and would've punished me for that.

But the biggest reason for wanting to leave him, now that I thought about it, was because I didn't feel worthy of his care, trust, or affection. I felt truly soiled in his presence, and like a walking time bomb that's bound to shatter him when it ticks out. He shouldn't care about me. I almost wished he didn't, but I wanted him too much to truly wish that. It was horrible of me. I felt horrible. That was why I had had to leave him. I was so ashamed of myself, how I felt, what I had to do, what I had become. He knew me as the innocent playful young girl I used to be. That was the person he cared about, not the detached and submissive sexual slave I had become. The truth was he didn't know me anymore—we knew almost nothing about each other anymore and had nothing in common besides a past. A past so far behind us it was like remembering someone else's life.

Then how could I care so much for someone I hardly even knew? Maybe I didn't really care about him—I just thought I did. I just needed someone to talk to and get support from…not that he'll be able to support me for long. Maybe I really was as selfish as I seemed. As selfish as the man whose every command I obey without question and who I stand and sleep beside. Years can do things to a person. How was I to know who I truly was? Have I completely lost myself?

I needed to stop overanalyzing before I got a complex.

Later in the afternoon, I returned to my room and took a book from the shelf to read and pass the time. A servant brought me lunch and then I was alone again. It was starting to wear on me—I felt like I should be somewhere. Yet I did not want to see Galbatorix.

Frustrated and jittery, I put aside the book and took off down the halls to a long room where soldiers and squires trained in swordplay. No one was there, so I went to the courtyard where they sometimes practiced. There was a small group on the grass, sparing with partners.

My arm muscles tightened in anticipation. This was what I needed—a physical vent for my stress. I took up a sparring sword from the ground and strode up to Master Renik. He was watching a match intently, his fingers clasped casually in front of him and his quick eyes darting and assessing the swordplay and stances of the duelers.

"Greetings, Lady Reyna," he said in his grating voice that was deep for such a slim man.

"Afternoon, Master Renik," I nodded.

"I have not had the pleasure of sparring with you in a while."

"I have been kept busy."

"Haven't lost your training, I hope."

"I'm sure no one could ever lose your training, Master Renik."

He made a gruff "hm" and called out, "Enough. Fregritt, you're still holding the grip too tightly. Your strength comes from your arm, man, your arm! Your point placement accuracy is horrendous. I realize it's all-but impossible for you to be graceful, you brutish Urgal of a man, but do _try_. Thrudos, _the lunge follows the arm thrust outward_! You're trying to show off but your trusts have no _power_. _And_ your foot is rising which wastes energy and slows the movement. Now go practice in some corner so I can be spared the mortification of seeing you continue to club one another!"

The two men moved away, looking resentful. I smiled. Ah, Renik. He glanced at me with his thin lips in a hard line.

"I tell you, Reyna, they're the bottom of the barrel," he sighed. "I wish you had arrived here a few hours earlier, I would've been prouder. My third-year class is impressive."

"I do believe it, Renik, although I would've been out of my league with them, I'm sure. With these I can have more fun." I grinned deviously at him.

"You underestimate yourself, Reyna. You could hold your own with the third-years. You trained hard with me two years and then, well, a bit sporadically after that."

"The king felt two years was sufficient."

"Eh, it was, I suppose."

"We can't all become masters, Renik."

"_You_ could've," he said, "_these_" —gesturing around— "have no chance. I'm close to running one of them through. With a blunt edge."

I laughed. "I believe I'll use one of them to warm up, Renik, and then we shall see if I've grown soft on you."

Renik chuckled. "Somehow I doubt it. There's something in your eyes and taut muscles that says you won't disappoint."

I smiled, surprised at what his quick eyes saw, but it faded quickly as I noticed movement in the windows facing the courtyard. Two familiar fat, bald heads ducked away as my eyes fixed on them. I averted my gaze, annoyed they were apparently spying on me. Were they doing it on orders from Galbatorix, and if so why? The king had never felt the need to spy on me before. Or maybe he always had, I just hadn't known it. The thought made my skin prickle.

I jerked my head at a young man watching a match, a sword idle at his belt.

"You. Follow me," I ordered.

He blinked and snapped to my heels. And it used to be that these kinds of men ordered _me_ around. How times have changed.

We walked to the edge of the courtyard where the two men from Renik's previous reprimand were swinging clumsily at each other with their blunted weapons. I turned and held up the sword point. The young man quickly raised his as well and we began to duel. He was stronger than I was, but I was more skilled and slowly began to get the better of him, and then more quickly as his confidence ebbed and my muscles warmed up to the exercise.

I let up a little and came back with a different style. Once I again had the edge, I backed off and let him get an edge over me, then I came back at him, using a different move. Suddenly the young man's eyes widened and his moves faltered. I would've taken advantage of this had he not stumbled backwards and fell to his knees.

Watching him in confusion, I suddenly noticed how quiet the courtyard had become. I hadn't noticed because I had been so focused on the duel—

"My turn."

The cold voice I could've recognized in my sleep sounded behind me and I whirled around to face the king. I saw in my peripheral vision the rest of the courtyard was on its knees, their heads bowed. My knees moved in automatic reaction to bow, but a shiny sword point darted out under my chin to keep me from lowering.

"Come now, Reyna. I wish to duel."

I swallowed and lifted my face up again, my legs stiffening and straightening under me. "Yes, my lord," I said softly. My hand around the sword handle tightened, then loosened in preparation for the duel. Adrenaline coursed through me and my pulse pounded in my ears. I had never dueled the king before. He had taken Renik's word that I was sufficient at swordplay and had left it at that. And in front of all these people!

Galbatorix saw my expression and cocked an eyebrow. "Afraid?"

I responded my lifting my sword point. He grinned chillingly and took a stance which I mirrored.

He attacked first, more gently than I expected. I quickly showed him that was not necessary as I parried and came back skillfully. My fear washed away as I replaced it with concentration. He grinned and we danced and whirled, the harsh clang of metal sounding in our ears. The adrenaline made me stronger and faster and I gave him all I had and more than I even knew I had.

We dueled for a good while—I understood he was merely toying with me because he was a Master and could beat me easily. His strength was intimidating and I didn't have the edge of speed on my side like I had with most men because the king was as fast as he was strong. But I displayed my impressive array of moves and that seemed to please him.

The moment I began to tire he seemed to feel it, and I stilled when I felt cool metal on the skin of my neck. He lowered his weapon when I lowered mine, and the courtyard was silent.

Renik was the first to clap, and others joined in. Galbatorix glanced at them with a grimace and they were quiet. I laughed softly.

"That was very good, Reyna," he said. He lifted his voice slightly and added, "Renik, I'm pleased."

"Thank you, sire," Renik replied, bowing swiftly and elegantly. "Though it of course depends on the student and Reyna shows application to swordplay."

The king nodded, watching me. Something in my face made his eyes flicker and he turned. "Come, Reyna."

I snapped forward and followed him out of the courtyard.

"My lord," I asked quietly, as we strode down the halls of the palace toward his rooms, "are you having the Twins follow me around?"

The king chucked. "They tell me where you are and what you're doing when I am not with you."

"Always?"

"They are not _spying_ on you, Reyna," he said, glancing at me. "But yes they will check up on your doings. I like to know where you are."

"If you must, I would rather it be someone else."

"They will harm you in no way, I am sure."

"Yes my lord, but they're…disconcerting to see skulking around."

The hall filled with the king's deep laugh. "One of their many charms, I assure you."

I rolled my eyes and walked beside him to the grand back doors of his room, and followed him inside. He gestured with a curt head movement to my room, and I went in and changed out of my dress to more comfortable soft pants and an undershirt. I took my hair down and brushed it through with my fingers, then went back into the king's room. He was sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, and watched me come toward him. I went around the bed and climbed gingerly up next to him, worried because I didn't know what to expect.

His cold eyes stared into mine probingly. I felt a strong force enter my mind and froze. I had an impulse to resist, but knew it was much smarter to willingly let him in, or he would just hurt me by forcing it.

I inwardly cringed as he saw and heard everything that had passed between Murtagh and I. The conflict I had felt earlier rose up in me again and I felt a harsh mix of shame, obligation, affection, and animosity. I hated feeling weak and flawed before the king, and I hated that this private reunion was laid bare for him.

I kept my eyes closed for a while after his consciousness had receded from mine. I tried not to think. It was over. It couldn't be changed. He would think and say whatever he wanted on the matter. I was the king's. There was no point in trying to keep anything from him.

I spinelessly averted my eyes from his face when I opened them. The king was still and silent. I slowly moved to lean against the headboard, still unable to look at him. _Oh, come on, Reyna. _I swallowed and looked at him. His eyes were hard and his face expressionless. He was relentlessly staring at me. I worked hard to hold his gaze and not look down.

He finally moved and looked away, letting out a deep breath. A conniving smile flickered over his features.

"Hm," he mused. "This will certainly be…interesting."

I made no reply, hatred like acidic bile rising in my mouth and furious heat blooming deep in my gut and spreading outward. I turned my face away so he wouldn't be able to see the enormity of loathing I could barely contain. This man was pure evil and selfishness and ice and I despised him to the core of my being. He was going to turn me into an unfeeling monster just like him. That's what he wanted.

I hoped fervently that he didn't want me to pleasure him tonight. Fighting hard to control my erratic emotions, I took quiet deep breaths and remembered why I was here and what I had decided on. There was no other way.

Thankfully the king did not seem in the mood for sex tonight. When I looked again at him, he was laying down under the covers, his back toward me. I wanted to get away from him. Anywhere but here next to this man.

But I draped the bedclothes over myself and lay next to him so that we almost touched but didn't. I couldn't sleep, yet wanted to desperately. I couldn't tell if the king were asleep or not as his back was toward me, but I would guess not. As I said, I rarely caught him asleep and I doubted he would trust me when he knew how much I consciously hated him these days.

I was afraid to let my mind wander as well, knowing where it would go and afraid the king might feel it. He could be very sneaky about reading my thoughts; sometimes I thought it was constant ability and he was in everyone's head. There was nowhere safe for me except alone with Murtagh. And yet that was also the most dangerous place.


	6. Chapter 6

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 6**

…………………………………………………………

I was not allowed to see Murtagh for the next two days. I even rarely saw Galbatorix. The sudden isolation all but drove me crazy. Had the king presented Murtagh with the dragon egg yet? Or was he torturing him still? Was he just waiting? I felt left behind and ignorant, as I was used to being on the inside of the king's doings. Was this some sort of punishment? My mind ran in frustrated and anxious circles.

I passed the time by roaming the palace, searching, though I knew I shouldn't. I wanted to talk to Shruikan, but the dragon kept inconvenient hours, and seemed to return only at night or if he did return I could never catch him at it. I sparred with Renik's classes for a while each day, but that only vented my physical frustration and I soon grew too uptight mentally for the concentration dueling required. I tried to read, but that could only draw me away for a short time. On the most part, I walked the palace, feeling lost in its lavish empty halls though I knew the place by heart.

The Twins were also a constant source of irritation; my secondary motive for roaming was to see if I could lose the shifty bastards. Sometimes I would think I had, only to see them appear for a moment in my line of vision a while later, and came to realize I only seldom noticed when they checked on me. But surely they didn't have to follow me around in this way! I had always been the king's faithful servant and he knew it. Was it just that the Twins were infuriatingly obsessive?

Goddamn it, I wanted to know what was going on!

That night, I sat in Galbatorix's bed well into the evening, waiting for him to return. When he walked in and saw my scowl in the dim light he smiled humorlessly and began to undress.

"I can't take much more of this," I said through a tight jaw. "My lord," I tacked on, in case he was in the mood to take offense.

"Well, fortunately for you, neither can young Murtagh. He's only had me for company for the past few days and it's starting to show."

I leaned forward from my position against the headboard to look rather anxiously at him. "So you haven't brought him to the egg yet?"

The king raised an eyebrow at me, and I remembered that I was still mad at him. I sat back against the headboard and crossed my arms, erasing the interest from my face. He watched my conflicted body language with detached amusement.

"I imagined you might be a bit irritated," he said dryly.

"A bit?" I narrowed my eyes fractionally. "I have a list, if you'd condescend to indulge me."

The king's mouth hardened. "I don't believe you have it so hard, Reyna. All day with nothing you're obligated to do and no one to serve directly. I believe you have the best of positions at present, so what do you have to complain of? Is the food not exotic enough? Do you need more clothes? A bigger room? A servant to escort you?" His voice dripped with slightly-threatening sarcasm.

"I am not a petty child, my lord," I said in a low voice, insulted. "If this is punishment, I wish to know what I have done wrong. If it is for your amusement, I should like to know that as well. Perhaps I _am_ spoiled in that I was becoming used to being a confident of yours. If I have fallen out of favor, I'd like to be told as much."

The king was quiet as I moved over to the other side of the wide bed and he made himself comfortable, his back propped on a pillow. Finally, he turned his head to look at me.

"Are you lonely, Reyna?" he asked, his cold eyes mocking.

I looked squarely back at him without expression. "If your sole intention is to mock me, my lord, I will excuse myself." I waited, and almost moved to get off the bed when he spoke. Something about his face changed slightly; softened fractionally. His hand nearest me moved slightly closer.

"I think I _have_ let you in too much," he said matter-of-factly and with no inflection. "It is not a right of yours to know my business. However, I can find no regret in doing so. You do not displease me as do others. And you grew up under me. I have permeated your existence and I know your soul. You will always carry me with you. As long as you live, Reyna." He lifted a hand to brush the back of his cold fingers against my cheek and I did not flinch.

"I'll be in your mind, your thoughts, your actions," he murmured. "You are mine. Your place is this palace…and my side. And you know this."

I exhaled slowly, and murmured "Yes, my lord."

It…was true. I could never sever my ties with this place—with him. I didn't even know if I truly even wanted to. This was in my blood. The intrigue of Urû'baen ran in my veins. Even my mind was trained to living under the king; its rules and terrors and thrills. Perhaps being with Murtagh made me forget because he reminded me of when things were not so, but they were irrevocably this way now. I was in far too deep to let myself forget my inalienable allegiance.

I might despise the king of Alagaësia to the core of my existence, but the truth is, he _is_ the core of my existence. No matter who I was with or how far away I was, I knew I would belong to him forever.

My heart constricted in pain that took my breath away as I kept the king's imperious gaze.

"I know," I whispered.

I expected a wide, triumphant smirk. A domineering jeer. But the almost-imperceptible lightening of his eyes, the tiniest of lifts of the corners of his set mouth that could've only been noticed by one who knew him as well as I did caught me by surprise.

He nodded just a little and then leaned toward me so that I could smell him and feel his breath on my face. I sat immobile as his cool lips pressed lightly against my forehead in the most intimate touch the king bestowed.

He pulled away and I sat still, feeling oddly weak and empty but gratified. I moved back slowly to lean against the headboard, then closed my eyes and tried not to think. I had already decided this was my only choice… I had already…

I numbly went to change into a light nightgown and then nestled back into the king's bed. I fell asleep curled against him, protected, honored, hollow inside.

...

"Reyna."

My eyes fluttered open into the king's stony ones. I blinked and moved back slightly. He was lying beside me in bed, his face close.

"Do you want to see Murtagh presented to the eggs?" he asked, his eyes knowing. Of _course_ I did.

"Yes," I said, then cleared my throat because my voice sounded horse from sleeping.

He nodded. "Get ready, then. No hurry." I got out of the bed and crossed to the door to my separate room. "Wear red, Reyna," he added. "Ruby red."

I smiled and nodded. I began running the bath, and picked out the gown I knew he wanted. It was a gorgeous ruby red, and a bit more risqué with an open back and light, low-cut halter top. A section across my stomach was open as well, and red threads laced across it like the strings of a corset.

I bathed, shaved my legs, applied some light makeup, and brushed my hair, letting it hang down around my face to frame it, with a careless-looking part to add some sass. When I was satisfied, I came back out to see Galbatorix dressed and waiting.

He looked me over slowly, looking pleased, and turned. I followed him out and down the halls.

"You don't seem excited," he said offhandedly.

"I'm selfish," I replied in the same casual tone.

A smirk flickered on the king's lips. "And in what way does that pertain?"

I kept my gaze on the corridor ahead. "I will now be second to a dragon hatchling. I doubt any woman would find that particularly flattering."

"Ah, I see. You're jealous."

"No, there's a distinction. I may _become_ jealous, but I'm not yet. It's just selfishness."

"You wish the egg not to hatch for Murtagh?"

"No, I wish he wouldn't form such a close bond with it."

"Because you want to be closest to the boy and therefore feel threatened by it."

I pursed my lips. "I suppose."

"Well, in respect for Murtagh's attention, you're correct—you will come in second. However, the relationship between Rider and dragon is not a romantic one. In that area you will not be contested, and it is a need of his like any other. That should placate you."

"I was under the impression that romance and attention were mutually inclusive."

Galbatorix chuckled. "You know, Reyna, I don't know how Murtagh keeps up with you and your word sparring."

"He's not as slow as you might believe, my lord."

"You'd be much better off with a stupid man."

"Hm. You know, I think you're right, my lord. Where's that count from Forteran when you need him?"

"The one with the delightful lisp?" He grinned broadly. "From last autumn? I'll send for him directly."

We were laughing when we came into Murtagh's room. He stared at us like he had before; his expression a mix of shock and revolted indignation.

At the sight of him, my smile faded. Seeing his face was like being submerged into cool water; my insides, hollow, cracking, were filled and soothed.

The king spoke, however, and I turned back to him.

"Do you remember how his face used to sort of bloat when you came in the room to me?" he asked, grinning. His grin was harsher here, dominant and leering. He could not look playful in front of Murtagh—and the Twins who had slipped in behind us.

I nodded, a devilish smile flashing to my face. "That wasn't the only thing part of him that swelled in my presence, my lord, I assure you."

The king laughed loudly, and I continued, "Of course, I didn't notice at first because he was so small" —Galbatorix threw his head back at that— "but he had a way of sitting that lent it notice to me. I could hardly keep my face straight then."

"Yes," Galbatorix said. "I seriously considered poisoning him until I realized you were entertained instead of revolted. Charming man. We should host him again sometime."

"I'm sure if you wrote I was no longer yours exclusively he could be here in a day."

Galbatorix laughed shortly. "Probably less." He fixed his eyes on Murtagh still staring at us from his bed whose shock was gone and his disgust obvious.

"Depends on how desperate he is," I replied. "He's probably married by now, anyway."

"Oh, I believe he was married when he was here last."

"Better and better."

The king smirked briefly and then our joke was over and he was serious. He clasped his hands behind his back and jerked his head for Murtagh to stand up. Murtagh moved his legs over the bed and walked the short way to us, not meeting my eyes. I swallowed and looked at the king.

He looked steadily at Murtagh for a moment, then we all headed out into the short corridor and then out in a procession: the king, me, Murtagh, and then the Twins. We walked in silence; the gait of the king was long and steady, and, as I knew exactly where we were headed, I matched him with confidence. Murtagh and the Twins looked around them and glanced often at the king—not even the Twins had been down to the egg chamber.

After many corridors that grew colder with every staircase downward into the depths of the palace, we came to the heavy metal doors of the chamber. The king turned and his stony eyes fixed on the Twins' expectant faces.

"You two will stay here," he said.

The Twins' eyes bulged and offense animated their fat faces.

"Your Majesty," one said with greasy emphasis, "if _she_" —they looked condescendingly at me, their faces wrinkled in a slight sneer— "is allowed, then _surely_—"

"Do not question me," the king said slowly, a threat lacing his deep voice. "Your complaints are foolish and conceited. You will not be joining us." The authority in his voice could not be questioned. He opened the doors with a few quick, murmured words and I could feel the infuriated glared of the Twins on my back as I slipped in after the king strode through, Murtagh following. The doors closed loudly behind us.

Shruikan was in his usual position lying on his stomach, his forelegs extended before him and crossed in a casual stance. Like a lazy sphinx, only much more lizardesque than feline. I bounded forward to greet him.

_Reyna_.

The powerful growl in my mind made me stop short.

…_What? _I asked timidly. Had something happened? Oh no, had Galbatorix punished him for—

_Do not embarrass me, Reyna. _

Oh. I let a quick giggle escape. I had been about to run up and kiss his scaly cheek, but I could see how that would lessen his standing as an intimidating figure. _Right. Sorry. _

I turned on my heel and went quickly back to the king and Murtagh, standing watching me. Murtagh looked at me like I was crazy, and Galbatorix had an eyebrow cocked.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked.

I suppressed my smile. "Yes, my lord."

"Do you often run into the middle of rooms for no apparent reason?" Murtagh asked, a slow grin replacing his confused expression.

"Oh yes," I replied, "It's a ritual of mine."

He laughed, and the sound made me fly. I stared at him without drawing breath, trying to commit the sound to my memory to lift me when I needed it, but I couldn't keep it and it slipped through my memory like trickling water through fingers.

He held my gaze, looking captured by my expression. The moment was split down the middle when Galbatorix said "Murtagh" in his commanding voice. Murtagh's eyes broke away and I drew a long breath as he stepped toward the king, his attention now captured by the eggs on their golden stands.

Well, actually, the one egg. Galbatorix apparently had the green one moved to another location, and the red egg stood impressively on its stand, moved out a bit from the wall. The lighting in the cavernous room played strikingly across the hard ruby patterns of its surface.

Murtagh cocked his head slightly, then he glanced furtively at the king, and then at me, who had come up to stand at his other side.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, eying the egg. I couldn't help a smile of anticipation from quirking my lips.

"Approach the egg, Murtagh," Galbatorix commanded. I heard Shruikan get up and move closer to us—behind Galbatorix. Murtagh stepped forward looking confused. He glanced at me. I wondered if he knew what was going on.

His gaze came back to the egg, and the blood red surface seemed to glow of its own accord. No jewel could be more vibrant that that dragon egg and it seemed to captivate Murtagh.

"You may touch it if you wish," the king said in a carefully offhanded tone. My nerved coiled like springs, I watched with baited breath as Murtagh impulsively stretched out his fingers and stroked them along the length of the ruby surface.

A shiver ran through the egg and Murtagh snatched his hand back, looking startled. Both our eyes flicked to the king's face as a cold, satisfied smile spread across his pale countenance. He slowly took a couple steps back, and I followed suit. Murtagh followed the movement with his eyes and I watched as understanding dawned. Shock, fear, and refusal crossed his face in succession, and he sprang away from the egg that was trembling slightly in its cushion.

"_No_," Murtagh growled. "NO! I will not be one of them! I will _not_!" His voice rang with anger and a strength I had not heard before in the presence of the king. I stared at him, not expecting this reaction, but Galbatorix looked unmoved. He remained silent, which I thought was strange. Such an outburst he would normally reprimand.

Murtagh continued backing away and he glanced at the door, but seemed to know it was magically sealed. He looked again at the dragon egg now yards away, and his face looked frightened when he saw it was now rocking back and forth.

"I won't," Murtagh growled. "I will die before I am one of your Rider slaves, Galbatorix. I will_ die_! No, I'll kill it. I'll kill it!" He sounded desperate. I stared at him, frightened and anxious.

Galbatorix's face hardened at his words of killing the dragon. "Reyna," he said in a low voice. "Try to calm him."

My mind raced. If Murtagh were to bond with it, he would be lost to the king. But the dragon was hatching and it couldn't be stopped now. As always, I had no choice.

"Murtagh," I murmured. "It's alright."

He glared at me. "_No_! His dragon, his slave, Reyna! Don't you understand that? He'll control me through it like he controlled my father—I saw it! I _lived_ it! I will _not_ succumb to it! I WILL NOT!"

As his words rang out, echoing dramatically in the cavernous chamber, the egg seemed to blast away its shell, sending pieces flying in all directions. Even Galbatorix looked surprised.

"He's quite strong," he commented mildly.

Murtagh took ragged breaths as he, like the king and I, stared at the dragon hatchling. I waited for Murtagh to yell again, but, like us, he was held captivated by the sight of the ruby dragon baby crawling out of the fragments of shell. It perched, intricate and miniature, on the cushion and stared unwaveringly at Murtagh.


	7. Chapter 7

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 7**

…………………………………………………………

It stretched its wings; they seemed very long for such a little creature. The dragon was only the size of a small cat, but its wing span looked to be more than two feet. The wings were like a bat's with membrane stretching between the thin bones. His head was small but still looked large for the body and had a dominant set to his jaw and forehead. Sharp white ridges could be seen on his back that would probably become spikes, and already his feet were clawed with sharp points that would soon be talons. I looked at Murtagh.

He was shaking his head, still watching the dragon. He ground his teeth and broke from its gaze, crossing his arms tightly. Galbatorix watched him silently for a moment, then walked toward the doors. I stepped forward to follow him.

"No, Reyna, stay here. You can help him accept this," he said, then quickly slipped out of the chamber before I could reply or Murtagh could move to try to leave. The chamber doors closed with an echoing noise and I turned to face Murtagh. He gave me a withering look and went to sit stiffly at the door—the farthest he could get from the dragon still perched on the stand.

I sighed and let my gaze rest on a hatchling. It looked so noble, stately…until it suddenly wheezed a spray of snot out its nostrils and lost its balance, tumbling to the stone floor, its wings flapping uselessly. I moved toward the little thing but a sharp voice in my head stopped me short.

_No, Reyna. Leave him. Murtagh must be the first to touch him. _

I glanced at Shruikan, moving back, and then at Murtagh, whose gaze was determinedly trained on the opposite wall.

_What does the king want from me? _I asked Shruikan. _What should I do? _

_You know the boy better than I do, Reyna. Ease him into this. He must accept his dragon—you know that. They will be strong together. _

I nodded fractionally and walked slowly toward Murtagh. His scowl deepened as I got closer. I knelt in front of him. "Murtagh," I murmured.

"Don't, Reyna. Please. This can't happen. I'm no Dragon Rider. I—"

"Dragons pick their Riders, Murtagh. They know in the egg when the Rider they're meant for is near. You're destined to be one. You always have been."

Murtagh was shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut, looking pained. "No. Reyna, don't you understand why Galbatorix would let this thing hatch for me? He wants me as his Rider and his servant against the Varden—against Eragon! I can't do that! I have allegiances. I cannot allow this to happen!" He ran a hand through his hair, gripping a fistful earnestly.

"I perfectly understand the situation, Murtagh," I said in a tone that made him look up at me. "But you must come to understand that with the king there are no choices. He wanted me to be a certain way, and that was what I became. He wants you to be a Dragon Rider, and you will be one. There is no way out. The easiest thing is to give in."

"Dammit, Reyna," he bellowed, "I don't _care_! I don't take the easiest way! You _always_ have a goddamn choice and I've chosen _never_ to follow in my father's footsteps. I thought you would understand that."

I gazed at him, my face expressionless. He turned his head away and ran a hand through his hair again.

"Here are your choices Murtagh: accept this or die. If you've decided on the latter, tell me how you propose to kill yourself in here, because I'm curious. Going to bash your head against the wall? Piss off Shruikan?"

Murtagh glared at me. "I kill the dragon and then someone will do the job for me."

At this, Shruikan growled powerfully and stood. At the sight of the massive dragon coming to his feet, the startled hatchling hissed and moved behind the egg stand.

"Easy, Shruikan," I soothed. "You know he won't be able to with both of us in here."

"_Whose side are you fucking on?"_ Murtagh spat at me. I recoiled inside, but, unlike him, I had accepted my unavoidable lot and was able to maintain my unfathomable expression.

"That hatchling is like a human child, Murtagh. Only much more intelligent and special. No matter which side I am on, I will not allow you do murder an innocent because you have delusions of grandeur."

"'Delusions of grandeur,'" he growled. "Because I refuse to give in to evil? God, what's happened to you?"

"Murtagh, there isn't time for this. You have no idea how deadly serious—"

"I think I have _every_ idea how serious this is!"

I was going to reply, but I saw in the corner of my eye a red form move past me. Murtagh stared in fury at the hatchling making its way toward him, its claws scratching against the stone floor, and he stood and ran across the room from it.

"Don't come near me, you stupid thing!" he yelled. Shruikan rumbled a threatening growl.

"Murtagh!" I yelled, fed up with him. "You can't get rid of the dragon, so you must accept this!"

"I WON'T!"

"He won't let you kill yourself either! You have _no choice_!"

"_No_!" Murtagh yelled back, but it sounded weaker. Breaking. Though I couldn't feel his anguish, I understood it. I went to him and took his face firmly in my hands. I could see in his granite eyes everything he had wanted for his life crumble piece by piece as he desperately tried to keep resisting. But it was in vain. He seemed to see it in my eyes, and that finally broke his walls of denial. I felt and saw the hope drain from his eyes and his head grew heavier between my palms.

"No, Reyna, no…this can't…I promised myself I'd never…" His body crumpled beneath him and I moved my arms to cradle his head as he went to his knees and I went down with him.

"I'm so sorry, Murtagh," I whispered into his hair. "There's nothing we can do. There's no way out of this."

His body shook with his breath. "We could…"

"No, Murtagh. There's nothing. Trust me, I've been trying to find a way out for years and years." I lifted his head to look me in the eyes. His jaw was clenched in an effort to keep his tears in. I stroked the side of his face with my hand.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed. I was. Truly. It wasn't fair that his life should be stolen and enslaved in this cruel way. But we were so helpless. I moved my head forward to press my mouth to his hair.

After a moment, he sat up straight, lifting his head out of my hands. He exhaled slowly, deeply, and touched my chin briefly with the tips of his fingers. He said nothing, but the depths of his eyes spoke for him. I swallowed with effort, my throat constricted with the burden of his pain.

I could not find the words to voice what I knew was now inevitable for him. How he would be bound to the king through his dragon; how he would be tainted with Dark Magic and leeched of his resistance, identity, and humanity. I reached out and touched the closest part of him to me—his leg. I fisted the material of his pants in my hand like I was terrified of it dissolving away.

He moved a hand to the side of my neck and left it there, supporting my head like I had held his. His thumb brushed my cheek and I closed my eyes, feeling like I was underwater. There was a rushing in my ears and my chest was tight. I felt compressed from all sides.

"I'll try, Reyna," he murmured. "I'll not to let…to let him…"

"It's alright, Murtagh," I replied, my voice small. "I'll understand. I know you might not be able to help becoming…" I trailed off, anguish swelling up in my throat.

"Don't lose faith in me, Reyna," he murmured so softly I could barely catch it. "I'm going to get us out of here."

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my face away. I couldn't believe that; it would only hurt me more when he can't. When he doesn't even want to anymore.

We were both drawn out of our collaborative pain when we heard the scratching again and saw the hatchling was exploring the chamber.

"He can be your friend, Murtagh, if you let him," I said quietly. "You'll be strong together."

Murtagh snorted. "No, only more easily manipulated. The thing is the essence of Dark Magic. I won't let it be part of me."

"You must've met Eragon's dragon. Did he seem evil to you?"

"She. And that's because she hadn't been tampered with by Galbatorix."

"A dragon eggshell is strong enough to withstand anything. Hammers, drops, even magic. Your dragon has not been tampered with."

"It isn't mine!"

"He's always been yours and will be for the rest of your life. The connection between Rider and dragon is incredibly powerful."

"_Controlling_ is what it is."

"Eragon—"

"_Eragon_ was able to be different! _I_ won't—not under Galbatorix!"

"Galbatorix cannot stop you from loving your dragon, and he cannot take that love from you. I actually think it's a mistake on his part to give you a dragon. You'll become incredibly powerful."

Murtagh was silent, probably contemplating how powerful he could be—would it be enough to let him break from the king's control? I knew it wouldn't be, though. Maybe it _could_ be, if the king would let it get to that, but he wouldn't. He and Shruikan combined were much more powerful than any Dragon Rider could ever hope to be. It wasn't a mistake for the king to have a Dragon Rider under him. It was his most powerful weapon. Murtagh would be the king's ace in the hole, manipulated and dependent.

"But Reyna," Murtagh said softly, his eyes coming back from contemplating power, "the dragon isn't in a shell anymore. Galbatorix can do whatever he wants to it."

I was silent, my gaze finding its way to the hatchling, now cautiously investigating Shruikan while the big dragon watched him with an amused expression. Murtagh was right, of course. The dragon, and eventually him through it, would be vulnerable to anything the king wished.

"You can think about it all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that it's unavoidable," I answered. Murtagh ground his teeth audibly, then looked back at me.

"Do you know what his plans are for us?"

"You could guess them as well as I can," I replied, not meeting his gaze.

"Reyna, he trusts you. You know him. What does he want?"

I took a deep, slow breath and kept my voice very low. "He…he's not so bad, Murtagh. Sometimes I think I do know him better than anyone. Besides Shruikan, anyway. He's told me about his dreams…ultimately he just wants peace. To unite Alagaësia under a single banner, eliminate the need for war, restore the Riders…"

"He destroyed them in the first place, Reyna! He's a _madman_. He lies and manipulates—he's manipulated _you_. He wants nothing but dominion and will do whatever he must. This—this _vision_ he's crafted is a lie. He tried to do the same to me, but I was able to get away before I believed it. He's been able to get you to believe because you weren't exposed to anything that might contest it. Because he's so good at deceit."

He was looking at me in pity. I clenched my jaw and turned my head away from him. "No other truth matters now," I growled. "Not to me and not to you."

Murtagh shook his head. "You can't believe that, Reyna. If you do, you'll be his completely."

I slowly moved my eyes to lock on his as I remained silent. Couldn't he see? Didn't he know that I was already lost? He needed to accept it before Galbatorix wrenched that hope of saving me away from him. It would be better if he could realize it himself. But then why deny Galbatorix the satisfaction? We would be separated no matter what, and that way I could have some time to pretend I wasn't the king's pawn and that there was hope for us. Ultimately it would hurt both of us equally as much either way.

Murtagh stroked my cheek with his hand and tucked a lose strand of my hair behind my ear gently. As if replying to my unspoken deliberation, he murmured "Not yet." Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead the way he used to years ago. It sent a soothing warmth through me and he smiled at my lightened expression.

I slid my hand up to the side of his face and brushed a stray lock from in front of his eyes. I felt my insides liquidize as his intense grey orbs gazed into mine. "You'll be a great Dragon Rider," I murmured. "You could never be your father, Murtagh. Don't be afraid."

His face and eyes softened at my words. He smiled a little. "If I even so much as start to sound like him, kick my ass, alright?"

I laughed, and the hatchling looked up at the sound and his eyes zeroed in on Murtagh again. He began to walk over to us, making pathetic time on his stubby legs. I smiled encouragingly at him.

"Come on, baby. Murtagh won't yell at you again." I gave him a look and he grimaced.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked as the hatchling got closer.

"Just touch him," I replied. Shruikan moved closer to us, but quietly as to not frighten the hatchling that was almost to Murtagh. The baby made a little oddly birdlike _aak_ noise, and stopped directly in front of Murtagh. It cocked its head and Murtagh made a face, and then reached out to touch it on its scaly back.

I screamed as Murtagh's body convulsed like an electric shock was coursing through him. His cry went in time with a scream from the dragon, and then they broke apart. The hatchling stumbled back, shaken but unharmed. Murtagh, however, had fallen onto his back, motionless, his eyes wide open but unseeing, his body trembling.

I moved instantly to his side, terrified something had gone horribly wrong.

"Murtagh? Murtagh!" I exclaimed, lifting his head in a hand. He blinked with effort.

_He's alright, Reyna. Give him a minute. The __gedwëy ignasia is painful to form, _Shruikan said softly in my head.

The _what_? What was happening to Murtagh? No one said he'd be in pain! Why aren't I informed of these things?! I glanced at the hatchling; it was sitting on its haunches, its wings folded clumsily, watching Murtagh.

After a few minutes, Murtagh stirred. The fingers of his hand that had touched the dragon twitched convulsively.

"_It's burned me_," he managed, trying to lift his head. I brought his head gently into my lap.

"What?"

"My arm was burned! Didn't you see it?" he exclaimed, moving his body in a stubborn attempt to sit up.

"You're fine, Murtagh. It didn't burn you."

"Wh…" He brought his still-trembling arm up to his face to look. He slowly uncurled his fingers and I gasped.

"What is _that_?"

There was a shiny silver oval emblazed on Murtagh's palm. His fingers twitched. "Agh, it itches like a spider bite!" he groaned, his hand shaking. I gently moved my hands to cup his, careful not to touch the strange marking.

I heard Shruikan's pleased hum in my head. _The __gedwëy ignasia. Shining palm. The mark of a Rider. _

I blinked. "Shruikan says it's the mark of a Rider. It's called a gedwëy ignasia," I reiterated to Murtagh softly. He looked at me strangely.

"How did you—_Agh_!" Murtagh's other hand clapped to his temple, and he looked at the hatchling, looking shocked and frightened.

"What happened?" I asked quickly. "Murtagh?"

He blinked rapidly, still staring at the dragon. "It…it kind of… I…felt its mind. I think. I pulled away…"

I looked at Shruikan.

_It is the beginnings of his connection with the dragon. It will intensify as he bonds with it. _

I repeated Shruikan's words, and Murtagh looked at me in horror.

"No-no-no," he gasped. "I won't let it in my mind! This isn't—_Agh, stop doing that_!" he bellowed at the hatchling. The dragon baby started, but didn't run away like I thought it would. A strange little growl came out of it and it moved toward Murtagh fixedly.

Murtagh at first stiffened, then his eyes went unfocused and wonderment touched his features. He came back as the dragon nuzzled his pants and shirt, seemingly looking for something.

"It was curious…about me…" Murtagh murmured. "But now he's hungry. _Really_ hungry." Murtagh reached out to stroke the dragon, and it arched his back like a cat and made odd noises. Murtagh fingered the wing membrane and a corner of his mouth quirked in a fascinated smile.

My eyebrows rose. It was quite a change from the young man who wanted no one to know his mind to his willful interest in a creature that would come to share that mind. I cocked my head and wondered at him.

_Have him pick up the dragon and follow me_, Shruikan said, standing and turning. The hatchling shrieked and scrambled to the other side of Murtagh, who laughed.

"We're to follow Shruikan, Murtagh," I said.

He glanced at me, then stood, scooping up the hatchling as he did so. The dragon squealed and Murtagh let out a low oath. I looked back at them in surprise, and he grinned sheepishly at me. "Sharp claws," he explained, and I saw the dragon's small snow-white claws had dug into Murtagh's arm. In one spot, a thin line of blood ran a few inches down his skin. I watched as the hatchling considered it, then licked.

"Owch. Rough tongue," Murtagh said. I watched him, finding it odd he didn't seem to think it significant that the dragon's first taste was of his blood.

We followed Shruikan to the back of the cavernous room to the end where a wide dark door was set in a crevasse in the stone, unnoticeable from the other side of the room. Shruikan nosed it open and stood for a moment with his head in the doorway, completely blocking it. His body was far too big to go through, and I wondered what he was doing. Presently, he backed out and I saw the room was now lit. Shruikan must've lit the fire in the grate in the next room by magic.

We entered past him and saw the room was a bedroom. It had a large fireplace, a wooden bed with a chest at the foot, and a shelf with a few scrolls on it. What looked to be another bathroom was to the right, and then there was another door that looked sort of like a closet.

I looked at Murtagh and saw his eyebrows furrow, his gaze on the closet. The dragon in his arms squirmed with a growl, its mouth open expectantly like a baby bird's.

"He smells something…" Murtagh muttered, crossing the room, and he opened the closet door.

It wasn't a closet I saw as I came up behind him, but a dragon food storage room. Dried meat hung against the walls and from the ceiling, and barrels of probably some other king of meat were lined against the far wall.

Murtagh let out a low whistle. He grabbed a couple pieces of the dried meat, and came back out, struggling to keep the dragon and food apart. He sat on the bed, and the hatchling scrambled forward, its mouth open wide. Murtagh broke off a piece and offered it to the dragon, who jabbed its head forward like a snake, snatching the meat from his fingers, and swallowed it whole with a peculiar jerk. It immediately prodded Murtagh for more food, and was fed again. And again. It was a greedy little thing! When finally it was satisfied, its belly was bulging and its eyelids drooped tiredly.

He curled up on the pillow of the bed and huffed out some smoke from its nostrils contentedly. Murtagh laughed and looked at me. "Is this to be our room?" he asked.

I looked at Shruikan who nodded once, then I replied "Yes."

Murtagh nodded, watching the dragon sleep.

_We'll leave them for the evening now, Reyna, _Shruikan prompted from outside.

"I have to go now, Murtagh," I said softly. Murtagh looked up, disappointment clouding his face.

"You don't really have to, do you?" he asked. "Galbatorix isn't here to command you. Stay for a while."

I gazed at his earnest eyes, and he smiled a little seeing the longing on my face.

"Shruikan said I must go…"

Murtagh glanced with annoyance at the doorway, outside of which Shruikan waited. "He can't get in here. Just for a little while, Reyna. We haven't been alone together in, god, _years_. I mean, except when you gave me breakfast, but I was barely coherent then."

I laughed softly.

"I want to talk to you," he continued. "There's this gap of our separate lives that we don't know about each other. I've missed so much with you… You're different and I want to understand. It makes me angry that even _Shruikan_ knows you better than I do.

"And Reyna," he murmured, moving closer, his eyes smoldering, "every time I look at you, I remember… I remember what it used to be like between us, and it burns in me again. I want it back, Reyna. So badly." His voice was low and husky, and I lapsed back through the years to the countless dark nights we lied awake beside each other, his low, strong voice in my ear, the comfort of his warm arms that would hold me together when I was close to falling apart.

"It kills me that I can't even tell if you do too," he murmured, his words rough as if coming from deep in his throat. "Sometimes I look at you and I know—I _know_—all you want in the world is to be alone with me and away from everything else. Your eyes scream at me, Reyna—it kills. But then sometimes you're so distant…as if you're completely resigned to being a puppet of Galbatorix. But you can't be, not really—I mean, yeah, it's been a while, but you always had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and that can't have gone away. Maybe buried deep, but not gone. Not completely.

"So tell me, Reyna, am I crazy, or does it still burn in you too?" he asked finally in a low rush.

I didn't breathe. For Murtagh to put himself out there like that…it was much more than I expected. The very flames he was questioning flared up in me as powerfully as when I was sixteen. In a fluid movement, I moved up my hand to angle his neck, and pressed my lips to his. It was not lustful as I remembered it as a teenager, for in those years it had been all hormones. My feelings now were needy in an entirely different way.

Heat, taste, and a thousand sensations flooded me, and the hunger to keep my mouth on his was fierce. But I knew, somewhere in the annoying, rational part of my mind, that I really needed to go, and Shruikan would resort to magic if necessary.

I pulled away from Murtagh's embrace using all the willpower I possessed, and breathed into his mouth, "Nothing will ever put it out." Unable to look him in the eyes because it would unquestionably draw me back, I moved off the bed and walked as steadily as possible out the door.

Once out, I moved to the stone wall to the left of the door, and sank down it, my heart thrumming like a hummingbird's wings. I looked up at Shruikan, finding it hard to focus my eyes on account of my increasing hyperventilation and consequent lightheadedness.

He was shaking his head in obvious displeasure. _You shouldn't encourage him like that. You shouldn't encourage _yourself_ like that. You're just making this more painful later. _

I didn't really hear him.

_Barzul! Reyna, calm yourself. You're being idiotic. _

"Perhaps," I giggled.

He growled at me. _Get up. I'm tired of this. _

I stood, clearing my throat, and took a couple deep breaths as I followed him out of the egg chamber, my mind storing my snatched moment of joy for later. I now had to focus on other matters.


	8. Chapter 8

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 8**

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A/N: Enjoy this, cuz it's the last good time Reyna will have with ol' kingy for a while. Oh, did you forget he's evil? Yeah…he kind of is. I forget sometimes too.

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My heart refused to calm its pounding as I bowed goodbye to Shruikan and crossed the stone floor of the egg chamber. Shruikan couldn't fit through the doorway or the halls on the other side of it, and had to leave the chamber through what I assumed to be another, larger, way out, though it was probably magically hidden in the stones of the high walls. I didn't wait around to find out, rapping on the heavy doors to leave the chamber.

It was opened by one of the Twins, and I stiffened, seeing the murderous expression on their ugly faces. I swallowed. They were blocking my way directly to the corridor beyond, and I felt the menace of their expressions bearing down on me. A low hiss escaped their thin, pale lips simultaneously as they inclined their heads in a sardonically respectful gesture.

"My lady," one murmured, his voice laced in grease, and they parted the way for me to pass between them. Swallowing my fear, I walked quickly past them.

Apparently Galbatorix's anger hadn't carried as far as I had hoped. The Twins were not as restrained towards me as they were when I was around the king, and I knew I had to be very careful about being caught alone with them. They saw me as a threat to their position at the king's side, and thought if it weren't for me, they would've been in there when the egg hatched. These thoughts pushed me to move speedily up the stairs and away from them.

And also I thought of Murtagh.

I was an idiot. I knew I was. I couldn't be loyal to both him and the king. I couldn't have both. And I knew I had decided my place was with Galbatorix already, but it was so easy to know that when I wasn't _with_ Murtagh. Because when I was with him I was simply a young woman and all I wanted in life was to be beside him and care for him. There was nothing else, and it was painful to remind myself that things could not be that way…could never be that way.

But the king wanted Murtagh broken, hurt, and hurt was what he'll be when I'm forced to choose. Why was I such a masochist? Why couldn't I just cut myself off and serve the king and no one else like a mindless, heartless servant? Why did I have to feel and care? Why do I let that pain in?

My eyes burned but I blinked hard and tried to push away the conflict inside me. It wasn't worth it. I would ride the waves as they come and not try to fight or change the things I could not change.

The doors to Galbatorix's rooms were guarded by two sentinels. Seeing me coming, one said, "I believe the Emperor is on the east terrace, my lady."

I nodded and turned around, moving in a generally eastern direction, not exactly sure where the terrace they meant was. After climbing six staircases, stumbling upon a gaggle of priests having their noon meal on a small balcony, and then getting rather lost in a series of narrow corridors, I finally came out on a wide stone terrace.

I blinked in the sunlight, and looked around, marveling at the grand view of the wide city of Urû'baen on the right and dark forest sprawling to the left. Unaccustomed to associating light with Urû'baen or with the king, it was strange to see him standing before the low stone wall fencing the terrace, yellow light draped across his broad, darkly-clothed shoulders.

I walked slowly up to him and stood beside him, looking out on his city as well.

"He has accepted the dragon?" he asked, not turning his head to look at me.

"He has, my lord," I murmured.

He turned his eyes from the city and looked at me. He studied my face for a moment. I thought he was looking for some telling emotion until he said, "You look quite lovely in the sunlight, Reyna." He brought a hand up to brush my cheek and mused aloud, "I've allowed you to become too pale. You're skin used to be a light copper. A pigment from your father's side, I believe."

"Yes." I did not remind him that most of his servants came from Alagaësi backgrounds—natives of the land with little money or conventional skills. My skin was lighter than most, however, because my grandfather and mother had been of fair complexion.

The king studied my face for a few moments more, then looked outward again.

"Tell me what happened," he ordered.

Appreciating being able to tell him instead of him invading my memories, I told him about Murtagh touching the dragon, getting the mark on his hand, and Murtagh's grudging acquiescence.

"He was content when you left him?"

"Yes, my lord. More than content. Enraptured."

Galbatorix smiled, his eyes cold. "Good. Their bond will be strong. They'll start training within the next few days."

I nodded. "Will they be ready in time to suppress the Varden?"

Galbatorix's mouth drew into a line. "There is something more important I need Murtagh for than crushing the rebellion."

I had no idea what that could be, but knew better than to inquire. "And he'll be ready for that?"

"I will tolerate nothing less."

Of course not.

"And neither will I tolerate weakness from you, Reyna," he added, his voice hard. "When these things come to a close, you must be a warrior for me. Not in battle, but in intrigue. You must be loyal to me above all others." He turned his head to lock his dominant eyes on mine. His deep voice lowered as he continued, "I know you to be capable of this. It's why I trust you with things I do not trust with others. And why you share my bed."

_I hope that's not the only reason I share your bed, _I thought to myself. A corner of his firm mouth twitched upward as if he had heard the thought. Maybe he had. It was impossible these days to distinguish when he was or was not in my head. He resided in every part of me, as he had said not a night before, so why not in my mind as well?

Hunger sparked subtly in the king's dark eyes; I knew him well enough to recognize it. Unconsciously, things shifted in my body. There was the habitual deep stirring in my lower belly, readying for physical relations with the king. The change came so easily and suddenly, I was taken aback for a moment and shame welled in my heart, though I let none of it show as the tall man bathed in sunlight before me gripped my waist with a hand and caressed a breast with the other.

Where was the woman who had reveled in the taste of Murtagh barely half an hour ago? How easily she was pushed away, how easily she slid beyond the scope of thought to be replaced by the king's Reyna; his servant, lover, and confident in the darkness he created and maintained.

I was no better than him, really…selfishly using Murtagh for personal gratification when I knew very well I cannot turn from Galbatorix for him. Delighting in his touch one minute, then willingly pleasing another the next… The guilt, while it made me slightly better than the king, would probably pass, and sooner than it should. And then I would be lost.

Lost… Lost in these tormenting thoughts, I let my body go as hard, smooth hands pushed off the straps of the dress as they raked my shoulders and breasts. Down the fine, ruby-red material slid to the stone below, forgotten. Long fingers made quick work of the lacings of my brassiere and lifted away, and I moaned sharply as the king tweaked a nipple between his strong fingers as he firmly caressed the soft flesh. I felt a clenching low and deep. The sun was hot on my bare skin, and the king's cool hands and stony arms made a stimulating contrast.

I closed my eyes and leaned against his hands. There was no bashfulness or regret—the time for that had passed years ago. I was his, and he would do what he liked with me. My body was a gift, the only one I had to offer, and he rewarded me for giving it freely to him. And it wasn't as if I didn't enjoy it. I could no longer deny that. The king went out of his way to give me pleasure which was quite an honor and also quite surprising that he continued to desire me after so long. Galbatorix was known for his fleeting and spontaneous whims, and yet our relationship has done nothing but steadily build over a span of years—an unheard of length of time for the king to continue a sexual affair with the same woman.

I felt his hands work through my hair, freeing it from the binding pins and cloth that held it up and in place. I felt the heavy locks drape down, brushing my shoulders as the pins made soft clinks as they were carelessly let to fall to the stone. The king's wide, controlling hands weaved into my hair, messaging my scalp with their motions. He moved my head back and forth as if I were a rag doll and I let a light noise escape my throat when he tilted my head to expose my neck and traced his jaw from my neck up to my forehead.

He lifted me effortlessly and I draped my legs around his lower back as he walked briefly, then kneeled to lay me down on the warm stone of the terrace platform. I moved up to undress him to the waist. His pallid, sculptured chest shone strangely in the sunlight—unnaturally. This was not a man who belonged in the sun, and yet he would make love to me beneath it as if daring it to contest him.

Shivers worked their way through my body as the king watched. With a hungry growl, he moved down over me, pressing me with his heavy body, and letting his hands rake my skin, every inch. He leaned up and back to pull my legs out from under him and pull my dress slip and final undergarment down and out of his way. He then moved to focus his attentions on a lower, much more sensitive part of my body. A thrill shot through me—this was rare. Though his eyes screamed their desire, he seemed in no hurry to finish; instead making the encounter fulfilling for me as well.

I cried out and arched up as his hands rhythmically rubbed. I felt the skin under them grow wet and soft. Lord, his hands were the devil's own. How they knew me. I moaned loudly, breathing heavily, feeling every muscle in my body clench and release in waves. Ribbons of pleasure shot through me as his fingers found the nub at my entrance and flicked, then fondled gently, and then not so gently. Still, he kept a rhythm to his movements and pressures and I felt my body begin to sway and clench in time with it.

Sweating and trembling, feeling boneless, I moved myself up on my elbows to ease away his belt, then his pants. The king nimbly assisted me, straightening his back to kneel above me, his bent knees between my legs, and shimmied off his pants. This took a moment and in that moment I clenched my teeth, feeling a burning concentrating itself between my thighs. I was more than ready for him.

My breath was in gasps, my hips rocking in anticipation. Finally the king threw off his pants and shoes and I threw my head back as we joined. He plunged deeply, my body willingly opening wider and wider. I screamed because the sensations of pain and pleasure searing through my slim body was too much to contain. He rode and pounded me, and I felt neither the stone beneath me nor thought of the man above me. Only the moment of sharp pain and fluttering bliss existed.

Moments later, his breath coming raggedly, the king's bones seemed to melt as mine had done, and he slipped out of me, sinking down, his hot, deep breath in my ear and his head cradled in the curve between my neck and shoulder. We lay there for a few minutes, regaining strength and coherent thought. I didn't mind his weight on me in the least. It was protective and made heat rise through me from the place his erection pressed against my leg.

I didn't notice at first when the king's breath eased into the rhythmic breathing of sleep. My mind had been floating bodiless elsewhere. When I came back, however, and realized he had fallen asleep draped across me, my body seemed to melt again. It was a strange sensation; I had never felt tender toward the king in all my life. But here he was, trusting and vulnerable. I could still feel him inside me, hot, slick, and stone-hard. A lingering ribbon of pleasure shivered through me. The king's cool, stone-like body sheltered me from the heat of the sun directly above us. I squinted as I tried to look up at it, and when I reached an arm up to rub my eye, I found the skin around it to be damp. I hadn't noticed the tears.

After a few moments more, I slowly moved toward a side and the king rolled gently off me. He opened his eyes a crack and I smiled and moved my body over his, reversing our positions just a minute before. I lay my head contentedly on his chest, relishing the heat from the sun on my bare back. The king laid a hand lazily on my backside, yet it felt possessive. I closed my eyes and smelled his skin.

When I felt him stirring again against me, I lifted up and looked fearlessly down at him, my eyes alive and burning. He smiled, and though it wasn't wide, it was genuine. I truly did please him. I slid down a hand and stroked his hardness. His eyes closed slowly and he seemed to drift. I was awed and thrilled by the lowering of his walls. I had never seen him so relaxed, so unreserved. This was a sliver of the man he used to be, and it was breathtaking.

I stroked and squeezed, raked my palms down his chest and up through his hair. He allowed me to do what I liked, as if he were only half here. I was respectful and gentle, and pleasured him in the way I knew he loved. I soon had him throbbing in my hand, and he could no longer ignore the calling of his body.

Before allowing him to do anything, I guided him inside me and kept him nestled there, making only small movements as I lowered down. He groaned as it slowly drove him crazy with impatience and only when I sensed he could take no more did I move faster and let him meet me with thrusts. I gasped as he roared suddenly below me, and I felt his release filling my body. I watched his face as he growled the quick words in the Ancient Language as his chest heaved and his head tipped back. I hoped he had remembered the words the last time as well.

I rode him for a minute more, then drifted down and to his side, spreading languidly across the warm stone, the sun kissing my body. I closed my eyes. This was the kind of thing that made life in this palace worth it. This was what tied me to Galbatorix.

I turned my head to look at the king, and saw he was watching me, his eyes soft and glazed with pleasure. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I moved toward him easily, draping an arm over his waist and propping myself on the elbow of the other, pushing a dark lock of his hair back absently. I rubbed his chest gently with a hand and watched as his eyes closed again, his body completely relaxed. His breathing slowed, and I shook my head with astonishment that he could fall asleep so easily beside me in the open tower sunlight.

I carefully situated myself against him, my head nestled in the crook between his shoulder and neck, and allowed myself to drift off in the sun as well.

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"Wake, Reyna."

"Mm?" I murmured, raising my head a little as my eyes opened. The setting sun illuminated and shaded the king's face in a disquieting way, and I blinked, startled. He grinned, the play of light and shadow dancing on his features. I smiled a little in return, resting my head back down on his extended arm. We were both still completely bare beside each other, and had apparently slept away what little was left of the daylight.

He ran a hand through my tousled hair absently, looking pensive. I pressed my lips to his shoulder gently and was surprised at the warmth of his skin—it was almost strange as I was so accustomed to his chilled body. Curious, I kissed up his shoulder to his neck and then lifted my body to get a better angle, kissing down his chest—his warm chest. Perhaps it was the sun on his skin, or the lust that warmed his blood. I moved back down against his side.

We watched the blazing orange sun set slowly, turning the sky to rose with purple clouds. It cast a golden glow to the trees, the city, the stones and our overlapping bodies. And then almost as soon as it was cast, the gold and the rose faded away, leaving blue shadows and an inky sky. I pressed closer to the king, not yet feeling the chill, but anticipating it.

Stars appeared and entranced me. I hadn't seen stars in ages. A glimpse of infinity surely does put things in perspective; I was always so obsessed with the dealings of the palace and now it all just seemed to fall away. I felt the king's head move to look at me and I reluctantly looked away from the sky to meet his gaze. He inspected my eyes with a concentration that held my gaze as the night settled down around us. I didn't want to imagine what he was seeing, doing, sensing.

At length he murmured, "We'll go in now, Reyna."

"Yes, my lord," I said softly, sitting up as he did. I stood and looked around, squinting in the dark to find my discarded apparel. As I searched, the king located his pants and shoes and donned them, putting his other clothes over a shoulder. I could only see his silhouette as I hunted for my clothes in the enveloping darkness, but I heard his low chuckle as I pulled on an undergarment, and knew he was entertained.

I couldn't help grinning myself as I stumbled sideways, accidentally stepping on one of my shoes while I slipped on my brassiere. I bent down and tucked it under my arm so I wouldn't have to find it again.

As I traversed around the span of the platform, the king remarked "I hadn't realized we'd made such a mess."

I laughed softly. I felt for some reason that we should be quiet. Although, who was there to reprimand a _king_ for messing around late at night? Are the Twins going to ground us?

The thought made me giggle in a rather un-Reyna-like way as I stepped on the puddle of satin that was my dress. I shimmied it on, then pulled on my one shoe. I walked about, searching for the other in the heavy darkness. I heard footsteps behind me and turned into the king's arms. He pressed the missing shoe into my hands with a low chuckle. I pulled it on and he walked me to the entrance of the platform, a guiding arm across my lower back.

As the candlelight of the narrow hall leading us downward to the main palace illuminated the way, I looked at the king and grinned devilishly, feeling like we were sneaking about when we weren't supposed to and getting a thrill from it. He rolled his eyes, but they were very light and his face was unreserved. I watched his lips quirk up rather like Murtagh's when I amused him and it made me smile.

We stole through the halls and, I think solely to entertain me, he would stop before we rounded corners at the foot of staircases or long halls, catch up my waist with an arm and pull me against him, keeping me from rounding the corner before he peeked his head around to scout for the clear before we continued. It was a game, and it made me laugh in whispers every time, though he'd glance at me with a mock-reproving look as if to scold me for being too loud and perchance giving us away.

Once, there was an actual sentry walking the hall and Galbatorix had to cover my mouth with his hand to stop me from busting out in laughter when he jerked his head back from looking around the corner, his surprised expression priceless. Apparently he hadn't been seen, but he pinned me to the wall in the shadows, an arm at my waist and the other hand still clamped over my mouth as I shook with repressed laughter until a minute later when he let up and we continued sneaking on through the castle.

We couldn't keep up our game all the way, however, since it was impossible to get near Galbatorix's rooms without discovery; there were sentinels everywhere, plus the servants running around and night guards on duty and the occasional residents—including but not limited to: priests, spies, concubines, dark magicians, prisoners (though I suppose these wouldn't be strolling the halls), general staff, and soldiers—wandering about. We walked casually through the torch-lighted or magic-lighted corridors, receiving surprised and usually fearful looks from the people we passed. I was sure I looked tumbled, and it would be obvious to anyone with half a brain what we were coming back from doing. But neither of us particularly cared. I had no reputation to keep, and no one was going to question Galbatorix in anything.

The room guards moved aside respectfully for the king and I, bowing, and we entered his room He lit the magical lights along the wall without even looking at them or moving his lips, then glanced at the fire and flames burst to fire in its grate. I opened the door to my private room and put away my clothes, then ran a bath since I was dirty from the terrace floor. Afterwards, I changed into a soft, light nightgown, dried my hair thoroughly with a towel, and brushed it until it was lustrous again.

I walked softly to the door between the king's room and mine and opened it a crack. He was standing before a table with scrolls on it at the far end of the room, his back to me, hands clasped tightly. I could sense his concentration and, though I didn't know what he was doing, I knew it to be important and probably implementing magic, and he was therefore not to be disturbed. I closed the door quietly and went to my bed, snuggling with a sigh into the covers. It had been a very, very long day, and as my muscles relaxed into the mattress I realized how truly exhausted I was.

I had planned to go back to the king when he was finished with his solitary mediation and was ready for bed, but sleep claimed me within minutes of my head finding the pillow and my dreams drifted to another man entirely… if he can be called a man…he's still quite a boy to me…though they both have such similar obstinance and granite gray eyes…


	9. Chapter 9

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 9**

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I woke late in the morning, though I thought it was still early when I opened my eyes. The light that came from the one small window near the ceiling of my bedroom was a subdued gray. I lay in my bed for a while, listening to a dull background noise that I realized was the sound of heavy rain, muffled through the thick walls of the castle. I pushed the covers aside, walked over, and stood on my tiptoes to look out the window.

I could see nothing out the fogged glass, and rubbed absently at my face as I turned toward the bathroom. I noticed, as I walked past, the tray of cold breakfast that a servant had left on the small trunk at the foot of the bed.

After beginning the bath, I stood in front of the oval mirror. A flush still resiliently lingered on my cheeks from the previous night, but my body responded in no other way to the memory. In fact, I now wished to forget it. I knew the king too well to think it was some kind of turning point, some sign that our relationship had gained a level of camaraderie. Perhaps last night, in the moment, things were a bit different, a bit better; perhaps we had been closer than we ever had, but the king fluctuated so wildly it will probably be now as if it never happened. In fact, knowing the king, he'd probably try to be worse for a while to make up for the slip.

I shook my head, pushing away thoughts as I turned back to the bath and turned the nozzle off as I lowered myself in. But as I washed, I thought of Murtagh with a sharp stab of guilt. Did he know of the arrangement between the king and I? Galbatorix had told him about my past as a concubine, but had he told Murtagh of how I was now his personal servant? I felt my insides boiling with shame. What if he told him of last night? Murtagh would be…irate. He wouldn't want to even see me, let alone be near me, touch me…kiss me. I felt a pressure in my temples and a hot scorching in my gut as his revolted face swam unbidden before my eyes. I forced away the image.

Stepping out of the bath, I toweled my hair, then shook my head to let the damp locks fall carelessly around my face. I dressed a bit more casually today, but still in an attractive dress, as the king preferred little else. I touched up my face, applied a bit of perfume behind my ears, and checked the king's room just in case.

He was gone, of course; the nighttime fire in the grate long since burnt out. I went back into my room and took up a piece of cold toast on my way out, meeting no one as I walked quietly down the hall. I was heading toward a huge corridor along which was a row of large, ornate windows which would have a better view of the rain. I came to the first one and looked out onto the side grounds. I could see forest stretching out before me, the rain falling steadily down outside. I pressed my fingers to the cold glass and it fogged up around them. Streaks of rain ran down the window on the other side of the glass.

"Nasty weather," a horrid, oily voice spoke from behind me.

I couldn't help starting in surprise and a bit of fear. I snatched my hand back from the glass and turned to face one of the Twins, keeping my face from betraying the loathing I felt for the ugly little abomination. I despised how they popped up wherever I went.

"I think it's lovely," I replied, mostly just to spite him. I turned back toward the window. In truth, the scene was dismal.

He cackled and I flinched again. He was so _creepy_. I shot him a look.

"So _spiteful_. No wonder the Emperor finds pleasure in you," he said, a malicious glint in his knowing eyes.

I didn't like the phrases he used—I had just been thinking 'to spite him' and 'finds pleasure in you' had an implied meaning. I narrowed my eyes. Something in his eyes flickered and I felt a strange pressure in my head, in my consciousness. I made a rough growling noise and shook my head jerkily as if that could rid me off his probing.

"The king told you not to _examine_ those at his side!" I half-shouted, panicked. I didn't know how to defend myself against mental onslaught.

"I don't see him around, do you?" he jeered. His eyes flashed again and the king's face on the sunlit tower yesterday flashed in my mind. Without thinking, I flung out my leg and kicked the little man in the gut. He stumbled back and doubled over, making a god-awful hissing noise.

"_You dare strike me, you filthy servant_!" he spat. His eyes were black and there was a red glow to them that hadn't been there before.

"If you can enter my mind, so can the king!" I cried. "If I tell him of this, he will see it to be true in my mind, and you will be punished. He _ordered_ you not to—to examine me!"

The Twin shook with contained malice. His voice was a low, threatening hiss. "You think you are so important, but you are _nothing_. And when the king has no more need of you, I shall be able to rip and torture your little mind until you crawl and _beg_ for death. You are nothing but a stupid servant girl. A training tool." He laughed harshly and whipped around the hall corner faster than I would've thought possible on his stubby legs.

I took a deep, shaky breath and pressed my hand against the window to support myself. Perhaps what he said was true, but I would kill myself before I allowed those monsters into my mind.

I thought about going to the king about it, but the Twin probably expected I would go running to my protector, and if he felt safe, it was most likely pointless. Normally I could fight my own battles, but a battle of the mind was beyond me. I did not have those powers. Anyway, Galbatorix would think it pathetic if I came to him about the Twins' bullying. I knew the imps were useful to Galbatorix, and he would not alienate them from him just because they threaten me.

Still feeling shaken, I headed off swiftly down the corridor. I didn't really know where I was headed, but I passed another row of tall windows and stopped with a jerk when I saw who was in the enclosed courtyard. Murtagh and the red dragon were playing alone in the grass. Two sentinels guarded both doors out of the courtyard, but other than that, they were free to do as they pleased.

The dragon nipped playfully at Murtagh's ankles as the young man ran by him, laughing. He looked so happy. I felt a twist of jealously. But of course Galbatorix wanted Murtagh to be happy now. He needed him to trust his dragon, and how better to do so than by making the animal a symbol of happiness? I watched as Murtagh rolled on the ground and the dragon baby jumped on his chest, its wings out and flapping absurdly. The dragon was already a bit bigger than when it hatched yesterday, and if it kept growing at this rate, it would be as tall as Murtagh in a few short months. And if its power grew with its size, two sentinels at each door would not be enough to keep them contained.

Murtagh stood, the dragon climbing over his shoulders, its little talons clawing into his shirt. Murtagh laughed again and his gaze casually swept the courtyard. He blinked when he spotted me watching him in the window and he split into a wide grin.

I hadn't expected that grin to effect me so powerfully. It almost knocked me down. Gods, he was so beautiful! My insides froze for a moment then melted completely. I felt my walls crumble, my fears wash away, my soul sour, my heart expand until my chest was tight with it. Nothing in the world could compare to the way this boy made me feel. Nothing.

He beckoned to me, his grin stretching wider as he took in my expression. I all but shoved aside the sentinels who let me in without a fuss—apparently the king had given permission for me to see the new Dragon Rider. I slammed through the doors as Murtagh yanked the dragon off his shoulder and set him down. I flew to Murtagh and he lifted me of the ground when I slammed into him, twirling me and holding me tightly. I held myself to him as if he were life itself. His happy laugh sounded rich and beautiful in my ears and I pulled back to look into his face.

His eyes were light and joyful and his arms under my thighs holding me up and against him were strong and sure. Basking in his joy, I took a breath and wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him toward me. Our lips met with a passion and a bliss that I had not felt in—well, actually I had never quite felt this. With a groan that made fire course through my veins, he dropped to his knees on the grass and lowered me until I was on the ground and he was astride. We rolled through the grass, drinking each other in like two people that had found a waterfall after hiking for years through the desert. We didn't remove any of our clothes—it wasn't like that. We just needed to be ever closer, pressing ourselves to one another, kissing and feeling as if to make up for the wasted years apart.

It was impossible to get enough of him, but I felt like I would gladly spend the rest of my life trying. I wanted to become part of him; bury myself in his heart where he would keep me forever and nothing could get at me, to hell with the rest of the world. I wanted us to be the only people alive, or to cease to exist together—anything to get us away and alone. Because I knew it couldn't be like this for too much longer and it made me unspeakably desperate to stay forever in this moment.

"Reyna," he murmured, whispered, groaned, plead, breathed, over and over. I was going to burst. There was no way to contain how much I loved this young man.

"_Ow_!" I exclaimed in a breathless voice, pulling our mouths apart. I stared down at Murtagh, thinking at first that it was his fingernails that had caused the pain in my back because I could feel his hands there and his nails pressing into my skin through my dress. But it hadn't been him. I sat up and turned to stare at the little dragon who was panting on the grass beside us, his snow-white claws red with my blood.

I gasped in shock and Murtagh gently untangled himself from me and sat up, blinking, his face oddly blank. He grimaced and then moved over to look at my back. I heard his sharp intake of breath—it coincided well with the pain I felt.

"Wh…why did he _do_ that?" I asked.

"I'm so sorry, Reyna," Murtagh breathed. "Because of the connection between us…he felt my—my passion for you and it overwhelmed him. I was just pouring out so much emotion…it took over him, except he can't express it like I can. Y'know, gently. Kissing and all that. He did what he could. It's not his fault. He couldn't even think with all I was pouring into him. I'm so sorry," he said again.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

Murtagh made a face, looking pained. "I'm really sorry. He cut into your dress…you have…a bunch of claw lines down your back."

"Are sure he's not…angry?" I looked down at the dragon who had his wide, crimson eyes on me, though I couldn't read the expression in them.

"No, of course not. He's as surprised as you are at what happened. He's a bit annoyed with me, though."

"You can tell all that already?"

"Well, he can't form thoughts yet, but I'm getting good at interpreting his emotions. Trust me, he's not mad. Very…questioning. He doesn't understand what was going on between us. At first he thought you were attacking me." He grinned impishly. "But he touched my thoughts and saw I was the very opposite of angry or hurt. It's all such a lot for him right now. I really am sorry."

Reyna shrugged, though the motion twinged a bit. "Well, I think if I had any claws, you'd be a bit cut up yourself, love."

Murtagh grinned widely and laughed. "The same to you." His faced saddened again with another glance at my back. "I think you should get patched up a little, through, seriously. You're bleeding a lot. I'm really, sorry, Reyna. I'd go with you, but I'm not allowed out of the courtyard until Galbatorix sends the Twins…"

"Ugh, don't you hate those little bastards?" I grumbled, standing. Murtagh assisted by holding me under the arm. His face darkened and he nodded sharply.

"They've been horrible," he muttered. "Cruel."

"I don't know how they have the time to be cruel to you when they follow me around everywhere I go. It's the worst to see their nasty, bald heads in my peripheral every ten minutes."

Murtagh grimaced. "Has Galbatorix always had someone spy on you like that?"

"No, not before now. Or if he did, they weren't as obvious as the Twins."

Murtagh nodded. "Please get patched up, Reyna. I hate to see you hurt because of me. Us."

I nodded, tilting his mouth to mine with a gentle hand and kissing him soundly. "Will you be here long? I want to come back."

Murtagh smiled. "I want you to come back. But I don't know how long I get to be out here."

I pursed my lips. "I'll get cleaned up as quick as I can, then I'll come back here."

I knew where the medical rooms were as I often had gotten cut learning swordplay with Master Renik. I went first back to my room to get another dress, and then back through the castle to them. I saw an elderly woman I didn't recognize inside. One of the men Renik had been so displeased with the other day—Fengritt, I think his name is—was sitting on a bed, a large bandage around one half of his forehead.

"What you need, dearie?" the woman asked, eyeing me curiously. I _was_ a bit of a curiosity. A pretty woman, though not one of the concubines. Able to roam freely, but not a servant—at least not in the mainstream sense of the word—or part of the court. My wound, as well, was out of the ordinary.

"There was a bit of an accident," I said, turning to show her my back. The woman gasped, then tut-tutted.

"My goodness, what happened?" she asked, getting a washcloth wet under a sink.

"A rather displeased cat," I lied brightly.

"Hmm," she replied, dabbing at my back. "Let's go in the next room, dearie, I need to get at those cuts."

She followed me into an adjoining room almost identical to the other and I had a view of Fengritt's disappointed frown before she shut the door. I lifted off my dress and she began to dab again at the cuts.

"These bled quite a bit, but they aren't too deep." She finished washing and applied some long bandages. "There, that should do you. Come back if they keep bleeding, dearie. And don't pester any more cats."

I grinned and thanked her, getting on my other dress. I walked briskly out and back to my room, throwing the bloody, basically-ruined dress inside, then striding briskly back to the courtyard. _Please let him still be there_. _Please_.

I almost ran to the row of windows and grinned widely when I saw he was still there on the ground, his back against a tree trunk, the dragon sitting on his stomach. I ran through the doors again and collapsed beside him in the shady grass.

The dragon baby didn't jump at my sudden appearance, but fixed his eyes on me again with that same intense stare. Its eyes were a tad unnerving. They were blood-red, like one would imagine a demon's eyes to be like. The shade was a touch darker than the ruby scales, however, like blood that had hardened. I looked away from the dragon and into Murtagh's eyes. They were infinitely better. Murtagh stilled, gazing back at me until the dragon nipped impatiently at his shirt sleeve.

He split into a grin and I moved forward to kiss him. We didn't touch, but our mouths were inseparable. We kissed with a rhythm and a flow. The ocean meeting the sand, the sun bathing the earth, a key sliding into its lock. We weren't two people, simply two parts of one whole, and the feeling of completeness when we touched was matchless. I felt something on my thigh and almost groaned aloud when Murtagh pulled away his mouth to look down at the dragon baby which had butted his chest with its head.

Murtagh smirked guiltily. "Sorry. He doesn't want what happened earlier to happen again, and I was getting there." He smiled at me. Every time those eyes met mine and crinkled and those white teeth broke out between his lips, it was like the sun breaking over the world for the first time. I could barely breathe, I was so full of emotion. It would've been ridiculous if it didn't feel so amazing. I didn't want to rein it in, to control it. It would've been the greatest sin to keep back any of what I felt from this young man.

I groaned aloud and his face looked like I felt.

"I know, Reyna," he murmured. "I know. I just don't want you to get hurt again. How's your back, anyway?" He reached an arm around to feel my bandages.

_I'd be better if you kissed me again. _God, how I needed him. He was like a drug. I was loosing it. _Budge up, Reyna, you're like a schoolgirl,_ I growled to myself.

"So, what's it like?" I asked. "Having a dragon?"

Murtagh grinned. "It's…well, it's pretty amazing, actually. It's kind of scary, opening my consciousness. Because it's not just to him I'm opening to, it's the entire world. I felt at first like I'd float out of my body if I wasn't careful. But it's getting easier. And it's really great to share a mind connection with the dragon. Already, I feel like he understands me better than anyone. Except you," he tacked on.

I rolled my eyes. "I doubt it. We're close, but we're not sharing minds."

He shrugged. "We don't have to. I can still tell you everything like I do him. I want to. I want us to be that close." His eyes smoldered and melted me like always.

"I do too," I murmured. We kissed again, more briefly than either of us wanted, out of courtesy to the dragon.

"Has Galbatorix eased up?" I asked. Murtagh shrugged.

"Yes. He's acting like I never left. Like I've always been here and he always knew I'd be a Rider. Like he didn't just torture me out of my mind a week ago." He sighed. "He's not _nice_, of course, but I didn't expect that. We've just been talking, mostly." He sighed again. "He's good at deception. I almost believe him sometimes. I almost forget." He shook his head slightly as if clearing thoughts, and brought me against his chest with an arm. I snuggled close to him, relishing it.

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers absently. The way he did it made heat shiver through me and caused a clenching deep and low.

"You better stop that for your dragon's sake," I muttered. He chuckled, gave my fingers one last, warm kiss, and lowered my hand to rest on his chest. I stroked him gently there and his sighed deep and contentedly. The dragon gave a similarly contented rumble-sound, then blinked, looking surprised at itself. I smiled.

"Have you thought about names for him yet?" I asked.

Murtagh shook his head. "Not really. Galbatorix advised me to wait until I—or we—find something that really fit. It's not like naming a child. The dragon should agree. Or come up with it on its own."

"Huh. Strange."

Murtagh shrugged. He stiffened suddenly for some reason and sat up, pushing me away from him. I stared at him, confused, and he said quickly under his breath, "Galbatorix is coming into the courtyard and I don't want him to hurt you for being with me or manipulate you because you're important to me."

"He already knows, Murtagh," I murmured back. "He knew the first time we saw each other again. There's no keeping anything from him. And if he wants to he will manip—" the words stuck in my throat because of the oath of secrecy I had given. Murtagh glanced at me, then at the king who had come in the courtyard and was striding toward us.

The dragon saw him, but made no move to hide or any indication he was anything more than simply interested. Galbatorix had not, of course, given the dragon any reason to fear or dislike him. That was not how the king played the game.

"Hello, Reyna," he said. I felt strange. Normally I was beside the king, but now I was beside Murtagh. The change seemed significant somehow, though not wrong. Anything but wrong.

I inclined my head. "My lord." I moved to stand up, but he held out a hand.

"Please," he said, sitting lithely across from us. His eyes rested on the ruby dragon with a soft expression. He looked fatherly, adoring.

"Has he used words yet, Murtagh?" he asked. Murtagh shook his head.

"No, but I thought you said he might not for weeks."

"Just curious. You talk to him, do you not?"

"Yes."

"Then he shall talk back in due time. When he does, you must be sure to tell me."

"Why?" Murtagh asked. I glanced at the king uneasily. Murtagh was being insolent and I worried for him. Though the king would no longer be openly cruel to him, insolence would chafe his patience and it was never wise to chafe the Emperor of Alagaësia's patience.

The king's expression hardened. "Just be sure to tell me." He looked over at me. "Reyna, you may leave us now."

I stood, bowing to Galbatorix, and gave Murtagh a parting look. He scowled at the king and gave me a sad look before I turned and walked out of the courtyard.


	10. Chapter 10

Slaves of Darkness

**Slaves of Darkness**

**Chapter 10**

…………………………………………………………

Shruikan wheeled gracefully through the sky, dipping and soaring around the citadel and shooting a truly impressive roaring river of flames out of his maw once in a while, sending the castle staff scurrying in terror. With powerful thuds, his mighty wings buffeted the air and sent him higher into the azure sky, where he wheeled and began to spiral downward in a terrific dive toward me where I lay on my back on the grass that had just dried from the rain.

I smirked as the mighty black dragon thrust out his incredible flinty wings and stopped himself in midair, not a hundred feet above me, seeming to blot out the entire sky. The grass flattened around me from the powerful strokes that whipped wind against the ground and carried him back up into the sky.

_Surely no such creature exists who his mightier than you, Master Shruikan,_ I murmured to him in my thoughts.

_Surely not._

I could hear pleasure in the voice that rumbled like the deepest thunder through my consciousness. It was an ancient voice and at the same time ageless; it held layers and fathoms forever foreign to me.

_Nor more beautiful. You could fly to the sun and it would quail. Why not soar into the horizon without looking back? _

_I cannot. _

_The earth trembles before you._

_I tremble before the king. _

_And before what does he tremble?_

_I know not. _

_I am sure he trembled for many things before he brought you to his side. _

_Perhaps. _Shruikan wheeled onto his back, roaring fire, and that fire grew and soared of its own accord, snaking and curling in the sky and around its master like an ethereal ballet. I stared, my eyes widening as the fire continued to do in the empty air what I knew to be impossible. The flames flared a rainbow of colors as the streams licked and twisted like separate creatures, then smoked out quite suddenly as the giant black dragon coasted downward on a draft, making the ground shake when he landed.

_I do not understand dragons_, I thought, staring at him, amazed.

_Nor will you ever, fair one. _

I smiled gently at the endearment. _Hardly, Shruikan. _

He tossed his head, his back muscles rippling regally as he came toward me. _I do not lie to flatter you, nor do I exaggerate. You forget I can see through the minds of men, and I have seen how beauty unravels them. _

_Beauty is relative, mighty one. _I rose and wrapped my arms around his tree trunk of a foreleg—though my arms could barely stretch around half its width—and pressed a cheek against the flawlessly smooth scales.

_The minds of men do not vary enough in regards to women to make that true,_ he replied.

I laughed lightly. _I suppose that's true enough. _

Shruikan rumbled. _You've spelled young Murtagh, and, like his father before him, he was never one to be ensnared by any woman. _

_The ensnarement, I admit, is mutual. _

_You ignore my advice. _

_It was not a decision, Shruikan. Planets have no choice but to orbit their sun. I am not strong enough to defy gravity. _

_Your metaphors are nothing to me, Reyna. You are blinded by infatuation. I am sorry for you, for you will hurt in time. _

_Of course I will. Pain is life. I will not turn away from what I want just because I know it will be taken from me. I am neither strong enough nor stupid enough. You misunderstand human nature if you think I could turn away from him before I have no other choice. _

_I was only hoping you had not already sunk so deeply. I see now that council is pointless._

_Are you angry?_

He slowly blew a long trail of steam out his nostrils. _No. I feel your love for the boy. It is like an ocean inside of you, and you are only beginning to fathom its depths, its reach. While I wish you would've chosen another, I will not scorn such emotion. _He shuddered in a strange way and his eyelids clicked as they closed over yellow orbs the size of battle shields. _I have not felt such in centuries. Who are we to go against such an ancient force? Magic of the oldest kind burns in your heart and Morzan's son's, though you are naught but children to our eyes. Love should be what Galbatorix trembles before, though he so easily can destroy it on a mere whim. I cannot grasp this._ The dragon pulled away from my touch, tossing his massive head again. _You may not understand me, but neither can I understand you. _

_And yet in love I am utterly powerless. Perhaps, then, true power lies with the powerless. _

_The king shall play your love like the strings to a marionette. _Shruikan stomped his feet and blew smoke out his nostrils. _You have no power, and if you do, it is unknown to me despite my years and the power and knowledge I have at my command. _

_Peace,_ I soothed._ I understand no more than you—indeed, certainly less. I am reconciled to my fate, whatever it may be, and I'm honored that you worry for me, but the fault shall be only my own. _

Shruikan breathed for a few moments, his large eyes on mine. He lowered his head so that his snout was close enough to touch._ You do not deserve what fate has placed upon your shoulders_, he replied, his ancient thoughts softer.

_Nor do you. Nor does Murtagh. But the world has seen fit to give us these burdens and so they may yet have purpose. _

_I know not whether you are wise or foolish. _

I laughed, abruptly lightening the forlorn mood, and tapped him playfully on his scaly snout. "Foolish, of course! You should know me better than to think me wise."

_Ah, young one_, he rumbled affectionately,_ you have much to learn and many ways to grow, but your thoughts do not lack shades of wisdom. _He shook his back and spread his wings, tail swinging like a gigantic mace. _I must leave you now. The king wishes to train the boy. _

_Until later, Master Shruikan. _

_Atra mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_, he replied. We were connected enough that the meaning of this phrase in the ancient language came through before he let our mind connection drop as he spread his massive wings with a loud snapping of joints and unfurling of leathery membrane and took a mighty leap over me. He landed with a thunderous pound that almost jarred me off my feet, but then, with a final pump of his wings, he lifted off the ground and soared away to another part of the castle.

_May peace live in your heart, Reyna. _

…………………………………………………………………………………

There was a knock on my door and I looked up from the scroll I was browsing, though I didn't bother to get up from lying on my stomach in bed.

"Yes?"

The door opened and a servant I didn't recognize bowed low. "Rider Murtagh has requested you, Lady Reyna," he said. I blinked. Murtagh can request my presence now, can he? That's new.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"I'm to take you to him, my lady," he murmured, bowing again and gesturing with his arm.

"I see." I got up from the bed and followed the man out and down the hall. He was leading me to the eggs chambers, and I thought it superfluous that he was leading me because I could find the way myself. We took a corridor, however, that skirted the main entrance, following a hall that wrapped around to the back of it—a different entrance to Murtagh's accommodations. We stopped before a wooden door before which stood two guards. The bigger one peered sternly at us as the other got a metal key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He opened it for me and closed it as I walked through.

I found myself in a short, dark, narrow hall, and I grinned as I turned in the doorway and spied two familiar feet sticking out on what little I could see of the bed. As I walked into his bedroom, Murtagh sat up, a wide grin stretching across his face. He immediately stood and wrapped his arms around me, and I melted into his embrace, pressing my cheek to his neck and kissing the skin there.

Movement caught my eye and I saw Murtagh's ruby dragon at the head of the bed. His eyes were fixed on me in his unnerving way. Murtagh turned to look at the hatchling, though he still kept an arm around my waist. The little dragon made a noise in his throat and cocked his head as he came forward. I kept still as he butted his head gently against my thigh.

"Hello, little one," I murmured. I was still a bit unsettled from this morning when he had raked his razor-sharp claws down my back, and the scrapes under my bandages still twinged when I moved, but I knew I had to accept the creature. I reached out a hand and he allowed me to rub the top of his little head. He made an odd trilling noise in his throat, and then promptly diverted his attention to stalking a pillow.

Murtagh chuckled, watching as he pounced, and then he looked back at me, pulling my torso gently against his own. His face softened, melting away any lines that creased it, and his intense gray eyes smoldered as he slid a warm, callused palm to cup a side of my face. I gazed back at him, lost in his expression. He held my face there for a few moments, drinking me in with his eyes, before he leaned in to kiss my forehead. A tingle started from the very tips of my toes and traveled up by body as heat bloomed in the pit of my stomach. He kissed his way down the side of my face and traced my jaw line with his chin before finally taking my lips with his.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tightly against me as I pressed as close as I could. I ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, and raked the other up his back. My breath quickened as my heartbeat hammered and I drowned in him. As we fell back onto the bed, I had a glance of the dragon baby on the floor at the end of the bed gnawing ferociously on the conquered pillow—apparently his way to deal with the passion emanating from Murtagh.

I gasped, breathless, when Murtagh lifted his mouth off of mine for a moment to get his breath back. His weight on me was wonderful. I panted beneath him and he smiled beautifully at my expression. I found a hand and snaked it around so that I could caress his face, pushing back the hair that fell in dark locks in front of his eyes. Murtagh smiled again, then groaned and rolled off and next to me on his back. I watched him with a frown; I was not done kissing him.

I moved on top of him and his grin widened. "Ah, that's better. Galbatorix had me sword fighting today, and I could barely hold my weight up."

"Oh," I murmured kissing him. "Well then." _Kiss_. "Are you" —_kiss_— "too tired" —_kiss_— "for this?"

"Hell no," he groaned, holding me against him with strong arms. I molded my mouth to his and raked my hands over his broad chest, his wiry shoulders, through his hair. He was too much, as always. He was everything.

I got his shirt off somewhere in there, because I was kissing his chest, his pale, sculpted chest, and then up his neck and to his mouth again. I loved the noises he made. When I kissed his mouth, depending on how deeply, he would make a soft groan low in his throat that sounded almost pained like he was suffering from a flood of emotion like I was. When I kissed his neck, he would rake his arms up and down my back and breathe my name. When I kissed his chest, he squirmed the tiniest bit and moaned. When he kissed or sucked my neck or shoulder, he would make a soft, hungry growl low in his throat.

Our kissing slowly wound down and I finally lifted my mouth off of him to move down against his side and lay my head on his chest. Murtagh kept his arms strongly around me, and we breathed deeply together.

"I thought it was the end of my life, coming back here," Murtagh murmured after a few moments. "But it's a beginning. To be with you like this…gods, after all this time… Reyna…"

I kissed his chest long and hard, trying to put the love I felt for him into it. He sighed deeply.

"You don't know how I am without you, so you can't understand…" He took a deep breath and said in a low rush, "I've been so alone, Reyna. I…I've always had a hard time trusting people. I've been on my own, I've fought alone, and I had accepted that hollowness as my life, as the way I was. But you…but having you…" He sighed again, and gritted his teeth, searching for words. "You make me—my life—different. You give me reasons, you fill that—that hollow… Argh, it's so hard to _explain_. I'm no good at this," he growled. "I can't find the words. I don't think there even are any."

I closed my eyes, full of the raw passion that rose within me hearing his half-formed explanations. I, luckily, was a touch more eloquent. In a soft murmur I told him, "I have the hollow, too, Murtagh, and I didn't think it could get better, either. But when I first saw you, unconscious, dragged inside by the Twins, something burst back to life inside of me. Every time I see you, my heart expands to the point where I all but choke on it. When you smile, there is nothing more beautiful to me in all the world. I want to breathe you in, to be always in your arms, to be your support, your lover, your heart's companion. I am yours, and you must believe me to the deepest pit of your soul when I tell you nothing can change what I feel for you—not the king, not you, not my own will, nor any other force on this earth or above or below. Do you believe that?"

Murtagh's eyes were glassy as he gazed at me. His face was full of such a combination of deep emotions that I could not make it out. His nostrils flared as tears welled in the corners of his eyes and his lips twitched to make a gentle smile. In the softest voice I had ever heard, he whispered, "And you must believe that it's only you who has ever or will ever reach the heart that I hadn't known I possessed… Only you, Reyna. However we're separated, whatever happens, know that."

I nodded, warm tears spilling out of my own eyes. Murtagh made a face and wiped them away with his thumb.

I swallowed with effort and replied, "No…no matter what I might say, Murtagh, or what Galbatorix might ma—" I choked on the words, the oath I had given stopping me from preparing him for what the king would have me do to him. I squeezed my eyes shut. "Don't belie—" I took a deep breath. "No matter what I might say otherwise," I whispered.

His eyebrows pulled together slightly in question, but didn't pursue the subject. He nodded and kissed my forehead, keeping his mouth pressed against the skin there. I sniffed, and nuzzled down into his chest.

"I hadn't meant to make you cry," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

I laughed weakly. "I'm overdue for some tears. It's surprising that I don't start to bawl every time I'm alone with you." I glanced up to see Murtagh's grimace, and laughed under my breath again. "You're the only one who gets to see them, you know."

He pressed his cheek to my hair and sighed. "Don't let me ever be the cause of them."

"If it's a good cause, then you can. Like a minute ago."

"I suppose. But if my pitiful attempts to declare myself make you cry, I've been far too unclear about how much you mean to me."

"I agree. You should try every time we're alone to explain. Maybe sometime this month you may alight upon a description you feel proud of," I sniggered.

Murtagh sighed, rolling his eyes. "I was actually trying to be serious."

I kissed his chest. "Show, don't just tell."

He made a growl-like noise in his throat that told of gritty determination. "To the very best of my abilities. I don't know what Galbatorix has in store for either of us, but he could never make me hurt you."

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. I wanted to scream. The king would soon be able to do whatever he pleased with his new Rider. Murtagh would have no choice but to surrender his will, and then Galbatorix could have him do anything he wished. In habitual response to the stress, my body became very still and Murtagh noticed. He shifted and exhaled in a gust.

"You think he can, don't you?" he asked quietly, his face turned away. I sighed as I moved up to look at his face.

"I've been here for so long, I don't dare hope for anything," I whispered. "But you…you're strong and brave and have a good heart. If I can hope, it is for you, Murtagh." I kissed his neck tenderly and felt his tensioned muscles relax under my hand across his waist and the leg that was draped over his. He brought up his other arm to push back my hair as he stroked the side of my face. I turned my head slightly to kiss his palm and a little smile eased up the corners of his mouth.

"Well, good," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Because hope's the only thing I have going for me right now."

"Your dragon," I reminded him.

"True," he replied, his gaze on a corner of the bed behind which out of his sight was presumably the dragon baby still destroying a pillow. He blinked and suddenly the red dragon pounced up onto the bed and walked stoutly onto Murtagh's chest. I winced as I watched the sharp little claws pierce through his shirt, but Murtagh didn't flinch.

He lifted a hand and the dragon began to gnaw gently on his fingers, his eyes locked with Murtagh's. A smile flickered across Murtagh's face, and his eyes flashed and subtle changes in his expression showed he was communicating with the hatchling. He glanced at me and then glanced back guiltily at the dragon that stopped gnawing his fingers abruptly and snorted a huff of warm air out its nostrils. He made a little growl noise and then moved his eyes to me. His head cocked and the eyes probed my features.

The dragon's face was expressionless, but there was something challenging and disapproving in its eyes. It watched me calculatingly and I felt like it saw me not as a person but as a tiresome object which it was trying to understand the appeal of. I kept my face expressionless, but resentment and an equally-challenging urge rose inside of me. The dragon could not have Murtagh all to himself—at least not right now.

I moved my head to kiss Murtagh's neck affectionately. That effectively took his attention from the dragon and back to me. I felt his warm breath on my forehead when he turned his head toward me. I glanced at the dragon and saw him watching me with unfathomable eyes.

"Is that all the king's doing with you?" I asked in a soft voice, my head snuggled against his neck. "Honing your swordplay?"

Murtagh nodded. "For now. I think he's going to wait until the dragon can use language, and then he's going to do more with us. What more, I know not."

"He's going to teach you to be a Rider and all that it entails, I would presume," I replied. "Magic, mostly."

"Magic…" he murmured. "I never imagined it to be within my abilities. I never even _wanted_ it to be. It's part of me now, I suppose."

"I don't like magic," I said, quieter still. "It frightens me."

"You have only seen it work for evil," Murtagh replied, drawing his arms up tighter around me as if his embrace could ward off the evils he spoke of.

"Yes. And magic is not a part of me, Murtagh. I will never be able to understand it." I smiled humorlessly. "Shruikan rubbed that in this afternoon."

Murtagh shifted his body as took a breath. "Are you often in audience with Galbatorix's dragon?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

I moved my head back so I could see his eyes. "We talk sometimes, yes."

"You _talk_?" he repeated, looking down at me with an astonished expression.

I shrugged, confused by his shock. "Yes, sometimes. Why is that strange?"

Murtagh stared at me. "He's… I don't know. Frightening. Don't you think so? He gives off this really angry, volatile, _dangerous_ feel. He doesn't seem like the type to just…talk."

My lips pursed. I didn't think so, but it was probably better if Murtagh respected the dinosaur of a dragon. "Well…yes, I know what you mean. It's just that I've grown very used to that kind of feel. I've lived under the king for years, remember."

Murtagh gazed down at me, his eyes tight. "That's…normal for you, then. That threatening atmosphere?"

I shrugged, looking away from him. "It got better after a while."

"Did it get worse when I came back?"

I shrugged, and he grimaced at my unsatisfactory answer. The dragon was sitting on Murtagh's stomach, watching both of us, his eyes flicking alertly from face to face as we talked. I wondered how much of our conversation he understood.

"How has it… What have you been doing here?" Murtagh asked. "I mean, what kinds of things do you…"

"Well," I said softly, wanting to be honest with him, "At first I was a concubine, as you know, then about three years ago, the king tucked me under his arm, if you will. He gave me a room adjacent to his and used me for some miscellaneous things. Tests, I think. I was terrified of the man and I did whatever he asked without question, like we all did. He at first was very cold with me, ordering me to be a spy, a tool, whatever he needed.

"When I did well at the tasks he assigned, he gave me more and more…subtle assignments. For example, I was too persuade a certain diplomat over a week to agree to the king's proposals by getting him to fall in—in lust with me."

"What, you'd fuck his brains out and he'd eat up your ever word?" Murtagh asked, his words hard.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "More or less."

"I bet Galbatorix was delighted in your success," he said through his teeth. He did not speak coldly, but in a hard way that made it obvious he was furious at the things the king had made me do.

"Peace, Murtagh. Such things are in my past," I murmured. Murtagh's clenched jaw loosened somewhat.

"Still," he growled. "God, Reyna, I'll kill him for making you—"

"Don't be stupid," I sighed. "You can no better punish the king that I can fly to the moon. If I can let these things go, so can you. Do you think me worse for the things I have done?"

Murtagh sighed. "I wish you had not had to go through them, but I don't see you less because of it. You're very strong to be as—as _good_ as you are now after having to do such things. Stronger than I thought you were."

Though his praised warmed me, it was not entirely true. "Do not think me to be untouched or unchanged by those experiences, though, Murtagh. The scars just ease when I'm…when I'm with you."

Murtagh kissed the top of my head soundly. "We'll all scarred. We've all had to do awful things, and I'm sure our misdeeds…especially mine…are not through with."

I nodded. "The king has much evil in store for the both of us. We won't survive if we dwell on the things we have done and will have to do."

Murtagh growled softly as he let his breath out. "But neither can we loose our hold of shame or our consciences, or he'll corrupt us."

"We'll have to draw a line for what we will or will not let go."

"Aye."

The dragon snapped his jaws in seeming agreement, his gaze wandering away from us. I chuckled and caressed Murtagh's chest absently with my hand. "What's your dragon's personality like?" I asked.

Murtagh smiled ruefully. "He's a stubborn little bugger, that's for sure. He has his own opinion on everything, even if he can put words to it yet. He's very… I don't know the right word for it. Resilient? Tough? He's determined. And brave. But he knows there is much he doesn't understand right now. It's strange…he has an inherent awareness and intelligence, but can't really put it into context right now. He has amazing intuition about some things, and in others he's totally ignorant. Like some of an old man's memories got put in a toddler's brain. It's really hard to describe."

His mouth twisted upward and his eyes lit as he talked about the dragon. He watched it fondly as it looked lazily around the room. Its eyes came to Murtagh's and there was the same softness in them when their gazes met. He moved off of Murtagh's chest to nuzzle into his armpit. Murtagh smiled and rubbed the scaly creature as if it were a pet cat.

We jumped a little when there came a pounding on the door. It opened, and both Twins entered the room, their sharp, beady eyes taking in my position curled into Murtagh's side and the dragon hatchling at his other side.

They both fixed their eyes on me and said in unison, "Leave."

"The king said I was allowed her company," Murtagh protested, tightening his arm around me.

They glared mercilessly at him. "At the discretion of your superiors, filthy boy," one spat. The other's lips twisted and he added, "You do not deserve the name of your father's son."

"Thank you," Murtagh replied tonelessly. The Twins hissed and Murtagh cried out and jerked in pain, his eyes squeezing shut. I watched helplessly as the Twins punished him as they saw fit.

"Stop it!" I shouted, but was ignored. The hatchling yowled and threw itself at the Twins but one knocked him away with a flick of his hand and a flash of his eyes. The dragon baby twisted in pain on the floor, screaming in a horrible way.

As soon as the punishment had come, the Twins let up their magic and Murtagh panted, lying limply on his back, his eyes open again. The hatchling growled weakly from the floor.

"You lack your father's power, his tenacity, his brilliance—you are weak and disgusting," a twin growled. Murtagh shook, glaring at them with hatred burning in his eyes. In defiance of the Twins, I turned his head toward me with gentle fingers under his chin, and kissed him tenderly on his forehead.

"You also lack his selfishness, his cruelty, his rage, and his evil," I murmured gently to him, smiling, and said in an even softer voice, "You are strong and beautiful."

The Twins laughed harshly, but we both ignored their nasty comments as I moved off of the bed and walked around. I picked up the dragon hatchling still lying on the floor and placed him gently on the bed before allowing the Twins to shove me out into the narrow hall and then out into the wide corridor.


End file.
